Innocence Again
by Luna-Kitsune-Blu
Summary: Something has happend to Jak and it has something to do with a certian KG leader and certian dirty trick. What no one expects is that when Jak finally regains conciousness, instead of Jak, outlaw, gunman and racer, they're met simply with Jak of Sandover.
1. Asleep

A/n: Heeey everyone. This chapter has been edited as of 12/18/2007. Because it was previously crap. I'm going to also attack the two chapters after this because they are also crap! Hopefully that wont be too horribly long in coming. However, now that I've said it, it probably will. DAMMIT.

Anyways, love you all for reading my story, even when the first bits sucked major. You seriously rock.

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**Prologue: Asleep **

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It was another one of those rainy, rotten days in Haven City. The unexpected mix of rainy and rotten that had you leaving for work in the morning expecting sun and not a shower, and when it gave you a shower, you were just flat out screwed.

Keira hated those kind of days.

And why wouldn't she? Growing up on a sunny little peninsula paradise spoiled her as a child. She was used to fresh sea air and clear skies in every direction, not…smog and rain and bleck in every direction.

Not even a good day in Haven could hold a candle to the worst day in Sandover.

Then again, her sour mood might have something to do with her not having a raincoat on when the shower hit. She'd been stuck in the middle of traffic in a sporty little half jacket issued by the Stadium and thinking nothing of it. And then promptly got drenched.

So yeah, not a happy camper. You'd think an advanced city such as this would have weather reports or _something._ But no, Baron Praxis didn't care enough to give them that luxury. It did make her want to invent something for the occasion, though. Not like she'd find the time, nor have the drive to work on it, if she _did_ some how find a open slot in her schedule. She felt too rotten to put her heart into anything lately, and rain? Really didn't help.This was just adding to her foul mood, and that had a good week's head start on the crappy driving conditions.

Well, an upside on the storm, even if she was reluctant to admit it, was how it cleared the streets. A trip that used to be an hour back and forth from her shop to the Slums had been shortened considerably thanks to the lack of other drivers. Not many liked risking their Zoomers in this weather. A wet environment could do any number of things to their mechanics and few had the credits to spare for repairs these days.

Not that Keira had to worry about that. If her baby broke—because she just had to take her favorite ride out on the worst day possible—it'd be no trouble fixing her up. C'mon, she was a mechanic.

Still, hate for the rain.

She was just one of the unlucky ones who couldn't get off the road when crap like this hit. She had somewhere to be and couldn't get out of going.

She didn't really want to get out of going, actually…

As Keira drove, she kept chancing glances at the package in her lap, stuck as securely as she could make it between her knees. It was dangerous to do—taking her eyes off the road when visibility was at its worse—and she knew that. Even if there were less Zoomers on her route, it was no excuse.

Still, she wanted the package safe. She had nowhere else to put it, what with her driving off the second her daddy had delivered it, and if she wasn't careful, it could slip and fall and be crushed or smashed or lost or any number of things. It'd just make her day if it did, too. Completely. Everything else was wrong, why not just top off the list?

But no, it was fine. Right where it was last time she checked. And it'd stay there, even if keeping her legs together like this made driving a little harder. She would. Not. Drop it. No way.

Getting where she needed to be took an eternity. An eternity of rain pelting on her from the front and attention shifting from the road to the package and back and forth. By the time she'd gotten to her destination, her mood had gone from bad, past worse and into something else completely. Horrible, maybe. Around there abouts.

Didn't stop her from feeling paranoid, though. She never did like coming here for that reason. Every time she approached the ugly graffiti covered wall, she worried she'd do something wrong and somehow alert the Guard.

Keira gave a quick, nervous glance over her shoulder as she turned into the dead-end alley. She'd planned on driving to the end and parking out of sight as usual. It scared her out of her wits to see her usual spot already filled and by a Hellcat Cruiser no less.

Ah, but there was that Torn guy, propped up against the hood like he owned the thing. The real owner had to be a friendly, then.

That only meant one thing; the Princess had beaten her here.

…so what comes after horrible?

Grumbling to herself, Keira reluctantly set her sputtering Zoomer next to the Hellcat and hopped off, bundle in hand. Torn didn't acknowledge her presence and she returned the favor in kind. If she wasn't already aware of how much of a people person the guy wasn't, she would've expected the lack of welcome was thanks to the way she practically stalked over to the Underground's fake-wall entrance.

What could she say? She was a 'heart-on-your-sleeve' kind of girl.

The hallway between the outside and the HQ was thankfully dry. Here the mechanic paused to wring out her jacket, which made a rather large puddle on the stairwell, and make an attempt at taming the mess the elements had made out of her hair. It was a useless endeavor without a brush or a hair dryer, yet she tried for the sake of trying.

And for the sake of prolonging her entrance…

"Nice _do_," was her greeting when she finally managed to move her feet down the last few steps. Oooh, she could just _smack_ him for that smirk.

"Not now, Dax," she hissed, and gave her hair another useless shake. Daxter didn't seem to care about the warning in her tone, because the next thing she knew, he'd bounded off the bed and onto her shoulder. She stepped back, steadying herself as the new weight opened his big trap.

"Jeez, someone's cranky," he stated plainly, drawing out the last word in a sing-songy tone that made her want to grind her teeth. "Bet y'woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, right? Not enough beauty sleep, sweetie?"

"And that's where you stop," she downright ordered. She swatted at him and he dropped to the bottom bunk near-by with a pout. "I meant it, I'm not in the mood."

"No one's in the mood," the animal muttered and crossed his arms. Then the beady eyes that had previously been trained to the floor scooped up and fixed themselves on the bundle Keira held. A lithe, furry arm jumped up, Daxter pointing at the package accusingly. "Whazzat?" he asked as the mechanic moved to hide the bundle of paper behind her back. "Izzat fer me? Why y'hiding it? Give it here!" He opened his arms wide to receive what he so quickly assumed was his.

"It's not yours!" she hissed, and the Ottsel dropped his arms in disappointment. Once she'd given him a look for such a selfish assumption, the bi-haired girl pulled the parcel back out and undid the twine holding the paper in place. She unwrapped the paper carefully, then held its revealed contents out for Daxter to see.

Three long stemmed, blue flowers sat, contrasting brightly against their dull, off white packaging. "These are for Jak."

Daxter gave an impressed whistle for her gift. "'m sure he'd like 'em, too," he commented, "but I dunno if he'll get t'see 'em, yah know." There was a vague gesture with his right paw, then, "Pollution 'n all."

"I'll keep them watered," she assured the animal quietly. Then she continued on her way past the last cot, fully intending to—

Ah hell.

Keira felt her face contorting into something not exactly lady like.

Ashelin, daughter of the Baron, sat squatted against the last bottom buck of the left row, asleep. Her hands were intertwined with Jak's, the current occupant of the bed. A green-eco drip was connected haphazardly into the anti-hero's arm. He looked the same as he had for the past week and a half, minus the new addition with her head in his lap and her fingers intertwined with his.

_That's _supposed_to be my_…

Keira tried to ignore the jealous twang the stupid image of them together sent through her because, really? It shouldn't have existed. It wasn't like she and Jak were even a couple or anything…

Now.

Feh, let the Baron's little brat have him. It wasn't like Jak was…_hers_.

Keira turned away and began looking for something suitable to put her flowers in.

Now, Keira was in no means a neat freak. Her father? Yes. Her? No. Very no. But even she, accustom to messes of all sizes, could tell this place was in need of some serious spring cleaning. But after a few minutes of searching, she located a cup and, once she'd emptied the obviously old contents into the furnace, set to refilling it carefully from the crude pipe running down the wall. Then she turned back around with every intention of leaving it on the table near the back of the room.

Only Ashelin was looking _right at her_.

Keira gave a start, nearly dropping her impromptu vase. When she was sure her butterfingers really did have a hold on it, she removed one hand to press at her chest, patting her racing heart. The Baron's daughter didn't seem to notice.

"Did you grow those?" Ashelin asked, sleep still in her eyes and voice. She didn't seem to care that Keira could quite plainly see how tired she was, which in turn made Keira wonder exactly how little the older woman thought of her. The red-head just rubbed at her eyes with the hand that had been grasping tightly to Jak's.

"No," Keira replied, feeling strangely guilty that she hadn't. "My daddy does the plant thing. I do…the inventing thing." She shifted awkwardly and drifted her focus off Ashelin to one of the more blatant anti-Praxis posters hanging around them. "You know…" and she drifted off, not knowing quite what she dared to say. When no reply came, she looked back only to meet the back of the KG's head. Apparently a sleeping Jak was too engrossing to continue their forced conversation. Not that Keira particularly cared. She didn't like Ashelin, and presumably vice versa.

Maybe.

Anyways, it was still rude. Asking a question then ignoring the answer. She opened her mouth to say as much, face beginning to flush, but by then the would-be Baroness was already on her feet and heading for the door. She gave Keira a back handed wave and then a glance over the shoulder before the second door slid shut.

Keira hissed out her breath through her teeth, hands in fists at her sides. "What…what a _bitch_," she whispered. The moment she'd said it, Daxter—now on the far top bunk—started giggling like mad and rolling around on his back. She grimaced. He had better hearing now, didn't he…?

Her eyes fell on their own to Jak's bunk and suddenly she didn't care anymore. She felt too tired to care. She had just enough strength to walk over and claim Ashelin's now vacant spot before her knees practically gave way at his bedside.

And there he was, her childhood sweetheart, covered in old bandages and a thin, faded green blanket. His tan arm was exposed and tucked tightly to his side, palm resting face down on his chest where Praxis' daughter had left it. Keira glanced up, noticing that the GE drip the Underground had lifted from the local hospital, the one now nicely fastened into the strangely scarred vein on the inside of Jak's arm, was already in need of changing. Hell, it should have already _been_ changed. What kind of place were they running here, if this was how they treated a fallen comrade?

…but wait, they were the Underground. And with his outlaw status, there was no way Jak would get any treatment at normal hospitals.

It wasn't fair…

Keira's attention instantly snapped back to her friend as he sighed in his sleep. Even then, his expression didn't change. Still all stern features and hard lines under the mess of matted yellow-green hair. There was a blood stained bandage around his forehead, but the red had turned brown, so she didn't especially worry. Every few moments, his eyes would move behind his eyelids, green eyelashes fluttering for the briefest instant. Even if she knew if—_when _he opened those eyes next, they'd be just as dark as they had the last time they'd met hers, still…

The mechanic could remember a time when those same eyes could light up an entire room—an entire village. Just like there was a time when the lips he now kept locked in a tight, stern line could crack into the most uplifting smile.

Keira wet her bottom lip before tucking it behind her teeth. Her hand found his and she gave it a light squeeze. "Even when you're asleep, you have to look so serious," she said quietly. Tears began pricking her eyes—she knew they'd come eventually, what took you?—as she pushed some of the sweat soaked hair away from his eyelids with her free hand. "Why do you act like this? What happened to you?" Now she was staining his sheets, but she didn't care. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the back of his limp hand. "It's…not my fault is it? 'Cursors, I-I didn't even get to apologize." Gently, she pulled back, regarding Jak's neutral face with tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and brought his hand up a second time to kiss it in silent prayer. "I'm sorry…

"Please wake up…"

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Ashelin exited the Underground and into a light sprinkle. The storm had called it quits for the moment, but from the looks of the horizon, she'd need to hurry home if she didn't want to catch it's second wind. But, instead of moving on, Ashe leaned against the entrance wall and took in a few deep breaths of the cool, post-rain air.

She hadn't counted on falling asleep. She hadn't counted on Keira, either…

"How're you holding up, Ashe?"

A soft thud announced Torn's presence beside her. The red-head could feel his concerned gaze on the side of her face. She sighed.

"I'm worried…" she admitted in a slow, calculated tone. "Worried he won't wake up. Worried we'll lose this battle without him…" She held one wrist and worked her gloved fingers in and out of a fist slowly. "Worried we'll…" Drifting off, Ashelin shook her head. "I don't know."

"He's just another soldier, Ashe'." That was probably meant as an attempt at distancing her. It only succeeded in making Torn sound jealous. She smirked a little—only he could make jealousy so cute.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, "Isn't that the same attitude that drove you out of the 'Guard?" He winced, and her smirk grew further. The droplets falling down became heavier.

"You should get some sleep," he announced suddenly. Her reply was to walk away, fully intent on getting into her cruiser and head home to the palace where she could unleash a few cartridges on a turret gun or two. Just as she had hopped up into her seat, Torn called again, "He'll be fine."

Ashelin merely looked at him for a second, then regarded him coolly, Baron's Daughter plastered in big letters right over her face. "He better." Then the engine picked up and up she flew, until she'd left the slums behind.

The tattooed man left heaved a sigh and leaned back against the wall, skinny arms crossed near his waist.


	2. Awake

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**Chapter One: Awake**

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"It's empty."

Daxter hung upside down by his tail from the GE drip's stand and gave the green-stained bag next to him another poke. What little Green Eco was left inside it, however, stood fast in its refusal to enter the tube that led down to the furry creature's friend's body. His hairy orange face scrunched up into a scowl and he instead resorted to giving the bag a squeeze.

"Did yah hear me, yah old coots?" Daxter grunted as he tried to work more of the glowing green ooze into the tube with his thick little fingers. He craned his head back. "It's _empty_!"

"Can it, Rat!" both Samos' threw back in unison, the younger of which rubbed his forehead tiredly. Still unused to the echo, the Ottsel nearly lost his grip on the hanger and instantly scurried down from his perch, reasoning with himself that he was getting light-headed anyways.

"We heard you the first time," the eldest Samos continued. Clunking over to the blonde's bed side, the green-skinned sage gave the drip a quick examination before letting out a sigh. "And I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."

"Nothin' you can do!" Daxter repeated from his new post on the bunk above Jak's. "Nothin' yah…Yer Green Eco _sages_ for the Precursor's sake!" The little Ottsel jumped up and began to pace on top of the bed. "Can't yah just…I donno, conjure up some more or something!" He waved his paws around vaguely as he spoke, a habit he had picked up at about the age of four.

"It's not that easy," the younger Samos replied for his wiser twin. "Green Eco is a natural resource that is, in this day and age, getting rarer and rarer to find. What little is left in its raw form is currently stored away for the entire city to use. My training as a sage is to learn how to shape it and channel it, not _create_ it."

"Worthless!" Daxter cried, throwing his paws in the air. "Yah both are worthless then!" He darted down and hung from one of the rungs of the ladder connecting the two bunks and pointed a stubby orange finger in the older of the two sages' face. "All that preachin' you burned my ears off with for all those years is nothin' but a load Yakkow shit, yah hear me!"

"Why I oughta'," Samos swore, his green hand snapping up in every intent of back-handing the little creature.

Whatever violence that was about to happen, however, skidded to a halt when a heavy clunk sounded at the back of the room. Two log-topped noggins and one furry orange head turned to find the baron's daughter standing in the Underground's front door, one of her long legs set on top of a rather large Krimzon Guard crate.

"Eco troubles, boys?" the red-head asked before giving the crate a strong kick in their direction. It skidded across the floor before coming to a halt in the middle of the room. During its trip though the room, the top had flown off to reveal its glowing cargo.

"Where did you get this!" the young Shadow inquired breathlessly, bending down to rummage through the goods.

Ashelin cracked a small smile in reply. "It was just lying around the palace," she explained simply as the Shadow's twin joined his double's side to examine their new prize. "Don't worry," the Praxis went on to ensure. "It wasn't going to go off to any better cause, I can tell you that much."

"There has to be over thirty pounds of pure Green Eco in here!" both Samos' exclaimed. Again Ashelin smiled lightly, but now her focus was on that of a sleeping figure across the room.

"Only the best," she replied finally.

"BABY-FACE!" Suddenly something very orange and very clingy was stuck to Ashelin's arm. "You're wonderful!" the thing cried. "Magnificent! Beautiful! Glorious! I could _kiss_ yah!"

Before it could make good on that promise, Ashelin ripped the furry thing from her appendage to find it to be Jak's personal rodent. Rather than being upset at his abrupt removal, Daxter grinned happily at the young KG. "Give us a hug!" he said, opening his arms to her. Rolling her green eyes, Ashelin instead sent the obnoxious Ottsel flying with a flick of her wrist. Landing gracefully on the desk across the room, Daxter gave his coat a brush. "I'll let that one go, sugar," the orange animal assured her mockingly. "Only cuz I know yah love me."

Ashelin, ignoring the Ottsel's reply, turned and watched as one of the sages fixed a new GE bag in the empty one's place. Almost instantly green liquid filled the drip tube and flowed downward into the sleeping body of the young hero beneath recently changed emerald sheets. Strangely, there was no change in Jak's face upon the eco's entrance into his body. His head still sat facing forward, propped up on the dirty pillow beneath it.

"Any change?" she asked.

"No," replied the Shadow, "none."

"Not a peep, not a moan," finished the other, elder Samos. "Nothing." Ashelin nodded and tried to keep her stomach from falling too far by crossing her arms.

"He hasn't even had any of his nightmares," Daxter went on to say. This caught the rest of the room's attention.

"Nightmares?" one of the Samos' asked, intrigued.

Daxter nodded his goggle wearing head. "Useta' get 'em a lot after I broke him outta' prison," the Ottsel explained. "Would toss 'n turn 'n mutter things in his sleep. But," he motioned to his friend where he lay in his bed, "he hasn't moved as much as an inch. If yah ask me, he's just catchin' up on lost sleep."

"That's terrible," Ashelin muttered, more to herself than the others in the room. She had known prison had been hard on the man but every day she learned about something new and horrible that had happened to him.

Bending down by his bed, she took Jak's hand in her own once again and simply took the young hero in.

No matter what she wanted, she had come into his life too late to save him. She knew that. The damage her father set out to do had been done and no amount of apologizes on her part could help.

Yet, it was the man her father created that she loved.

Bringing the hand she held to her lips, she closed her eyes and gave each finger a kiss for luck.

As if from some other worldly cue, the hand she held slowly closed around hers. Surprised, Ashelin opened her eyes and looked down at Jak just as his green eye brows slanted down and scrunched together. Still stunned, she didn't notice as the blonde's hand left hers to touch his head attentively before he sat up completely with a groan.

"J-Jak!" Ashelin cried. The man's face scrunched up once again as if her voice had sent a sharp pain through his head. He then slowly opened one of his murky blue eyes to find the source of the sound. Both shot open wide upon landing on Ashelin who was now beaming happily. "You're…you're awake!" she said, excitement in her voice. She leaned forward on the bed towards him, smiling widely, but, instead of him returning the grin like she expected, Jak's face took on a look of awkwardness and surprise. He backed skittishly away from her. "What's wrong?" she asked, backing off a little herself. The blonde didn't respond but instead darted his eyes around, as if looking for an escape route.

"It's good to see you awake, my boy!" the older of the Samos's cut in, floating over. Jak's face instantly softened and he let out a sigh of relief once he saw the sage, lips breaking into a thankful smile.

"Yes, good to see you," echoed Samos' twin. The grin on the young man's face instantly shattered upon the arrival of the younger Shadow. Much to everyone in the room's surprise, Jak then let out a howl of fright. His eyes flitted from one Samos to the other and back again before yelling again. The young hero rubbed his eyes, closed them and shook his head before looking at the two of them another time. Then he yelled once more.

And this time fell out of his bed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" cried Daxter as he dropped from the top bunk onto his partner's head. Sparing no time, Jak yanked his friend from his head and held the Ottsel in front of his face almost as a shield before scooting back against the post of the cot he had just tumbled out of. "Whoa! Hey!" Orange Lightning yelped as he began to thrash and kick, not at all pleased at his buddy's new use for him. "Leggo of me! I said leggo!" Jak shook his head and pressed his face against his friend's fur.

"Calm down!" the older sage insisted. "Everyone just-"

"Jak, what's wrong?" Ashelin interrupted, greatly disturbed by the young man's behavior. She reached out a hand to him but the blonde instantly shrunk away from it and shoved the irritated Ottsel in her general direction.

"Would you _please_ just listen?" Samos continued, making lowering motions with his hands.

"Jak, _leggo_!" Daxter screeched. "Yer gonna leave stretch marks!" Jak shook his head again and scrunched his eyes closed.

"Jak, what is wrong with you!" Ashelin cried, becoming frustrated.

"Would everyone _please_ shut the _HELL_ up!" Samos roared, slamming his blocked shoes onto the concrete floor. Instantly Daxter ceased in his thrashing, the Baron's daughter shot straight up in her seat on the bed and Jak peaked a blue eye around his fur covered friend. Glad that he finally gained everyone's undivided attention, the eldest sage adjusted his log before glaring down everyone in the room, besides his younger twin of course. "Now take a chill pill," he snapped. He then turned to the obviously frightened hero. "Jak, take a few deep breaths and for the love of the Precursors, put that filthy thing down, you don't know where it's been." Doing as he was told, the blonde dropped the Ottsel like a ton of bricks. Sending glares all around, the little animal at once scampered up on to another cot and began to fix his now wild mane.

"Now Jak," Samos continued in a soft voice as he bent down to the teen's level. "You may not realize this but you're injured, you've most likely reopened a few wounds and you knocked over a very nice GE stand my men worked very, very hard to get." Grabbing both of his arms, the sage then attempted to direct Jak back to his cot. The young man kept both eyes on the Green Eco sage as he did so, afraid what he might see next.

"Ashelin, if you would," Samos motioned for the woman to vacate the bed and, almost embarrassed, she instantly did so. The sage then set the teen upon the bed, his pale green hands not leaving Jak's arms. "Jak," he then said, "What did I say about those deep breaths?" The boy blushed and began to inhale and exhale deeply until his shoulders finally loosened and his hands dropped from their fists. "That's better," the sage praised, gaining a small smile out of the blonde. "Now, Jak, do you know where you are?"

For a moment Jak just stared at Samos in silence. Then the blue orbs began to drift around the room, pausing ever so often as if to take everything in. They spent quite amount of time on the zoomer that hung from the ceiling as well as on the younger Green Ego sage who had taken a seat behind the table that filled the center of the Headquarters. When Jak finally looked upon Ashelin, his gaze made her feel uneasy. He stared up at her with an innocent curiosity that had never been directed towards her before, studying her. Then he, sending her for another loop, cracked a small smile. Now put on edge, she quickly turned away and he, blushing, did as well and began search for Daxter. The Ottsel was found sitting in the corner, grooming himself and, seeing this, Jak laughed and stuck out his tongue.

_Gross_.

"Jak," Samos said, snapping his fingers to bring the boy back to the topic at hand. The blonde blinked and returned to looking at the former Shadow blankly. "Do you know where you are?" he repeated. Jak bit his lip before shrugging his shoulders and cracking an embarrassed grin.

_Home?_

"Where, Jak?" the log sporting sage repeated. "You have to tell me where!" He took a hold of Jak's forearms once again just as the young hero made a flustered expression.

_Home! Home. Home. Home._

"This ain't Sandover, Jak," called Daxter as he galloped on all fours back over to the bed. "Not anymore." This caused the young man's eyes to grow wide.

"Daxter," Samos hissed. Jak cocked his head to the side.

_Not home?_

"Hey, that's what he was askin'!" the Ottsel snapped back, rising to sit on his haunches.

"What are you talking about?" Ashelin broke in, beginning to feel very uneasy by this whole display. "He hasn't asked anything! He hasn't even said a word!" At this Jak sent a glare towards her with a hurt expression she hadn't seen before. The hero then brought a hand up to his throat and, eyes addressing Daxter, ran the palm of his hand across it and then pointed to the red-head.

"Nope, she doesn't know," the fur-ball replied without missing a beat, his arms crossing over his chest.

Ashelin gave a confused look. "What?" she asked. "What did he ask?"

The Ottsel sighed before uncrossing his arms. "He asked if yah knew that he can't speak." Despite Jak's nod of approval, the Baron's daughter was not convinced.

"Of course he can speak!" Ashelin shot back. Jak's nod became a frowning shake of the head in protest. Seeing this, the Baron's daughter threw her hands in the air in an act of frustration.

"Daxter, what is going on?" inquired the sage behind the desk. Two furry orange ears shot up in surprise.

"Me?" the Ottsel demanded. "Why me? I dunno diddly!"

The next thing anyone knew, the room had erupted into another argument. Ashelin stood demanding answers while Daxter and both of the sages swapped insults in their typical fashion. And then there was Jak, perched on his bed who, glad the attention had shifted away from him somewhat, had taken up an interest with a strand of his yellow-green hair. After a few minutes of non-stop talking from everyone, excluding the blonde on the bed, Samos once again slammed his wooden heels onto the floor, demanding silence.

"This is getting us nowhere," the sage snapped, throwing his hands into the air. He then turned his attention back to Jak, as did everyone else in the room. After a moment of being stared at, the boy realized he was being watched and dropped the strand of hair he had been happily playing with and placed his hands in his lap. "Jak," Samos went on to say, "I have a few more questions for you. You don't have to say anything;" (at this Jak rolled his eyes) "you just have to nod 'yes' or 'no'." The hero nodded in understanding.

"Do you remember Sandover?" Samos asked.

Jak nodded happily.

"Do you remember your uncle that you stayed with?"

Again Jak nodded.

"Do you remember me, Samos?"

Jak nodded.

"And my daughter, Keira?"

Jak nodded enthusiastically.

"How about your friend, Daxter?"

Jak glanced at the Ottsel that had now made a place for himself in his lap and nodded.

"Well then, do you remember the day when you and your friend Daxter _directly_ disobeyed my _strict_ orders to _NEVER_ enter Misty Island and ended up turning your friend Daxter into a _filthy, flee-ridden rodent_ that later went on to _infest my entire house for MONTHS_!"

Both Jak and Daxter shrunk away as Samos' voice built in volume and gave frightened nods once he had finished.

Samos adjusted his spectacles. "Now then," he continued, "Do you, Jak, remember a place called Haven City?"

This time there was a pause in which Jak looked down thoughtfully. Throughout the silence, nearly everyone else in the room held their breaths. Finally the hero's baby-blues returned to making contact with Samos' and Jak shook his head 'no'.

Samos let out a sigh. "It's just as I've feared."

"You don't…" Ashelin trailed off, confused. "How can you not remember?" The young Praxis stormed over to the cot and leaned forward, placing her weight on her hands as she set them on Jak's knees. This made the other teen very nervous and he tensed. "Do you remember me?" the red-head demanded. "Ashelin. Ashe-lin." Jak gave a frightened shake of the head. "How about Torn? Or Vin? Or Krew?" The blonde shook his head for each name respectively, or attempted to as Ashelin's pace quickened with each mention. "Not even that old man, Kor? Say something Jak!"

"Ashelin," the strong hand of a younger Shadow gripped the woman's shoulder, attempting to pull her away. "Calm down."

"But…I don't understand," she muttered as she did so.

"It's quite simple, actually," the older Samos answered. "When our friend here," he motioned towards Jak, "was in that crash a few weeks ago and quite obviously smacked his noggin', he was not only knocked unconscious but also lost all memories of ever arriving in Haven City."

"Well, that _sucks_," Daxter said bluntly. Jak gave him a good natured shove.

"That's great," Ashelin cut in, "but you haven't explained why he hasn't _said_ anything."

"Oh, c'm_on_, princess!" the orange Ottsel cried in frustration. "Do we gotta' spell it out for yah?"

"I'm not in the mood, rodent," she replied coldly, hand touching the gun on her hip.

"Calm down, both of you," Samos cut in.

"What's all the commotion?"

All eyes turned the back of the room towards the new, gravely voice. Torn sauntered in through the Underground's automatic door and paused once he noticed at a certain hero was sitting upright in his bed, conscious.

"Welcome back, Jak," the ex-KG said with a slight smirk. Jak stared blankly up at the tattooed arrival for a moment before cracking an awkward grin and waving.

There was a pause.

"What's wrong with you?" Torn asked bluntly. When the hero gave no answer, he moved his attention to one of the Shadows. "What's wrong with him?"

Daxter gave an exaggerated sigh and flopped back into Jak's lap as Torn was taken aside to get his explanation. "This is gonna be a long, _looooong_ day." Jak nodded in agreement.


	3. Confused

A/n: Okay, sorry for the wait. This chapter gave me nothing but hell. seriously, if some parts suck, tis cuz I hate them XD And before I get any complaints, I do not like in any way the pairing ErrolxKeira. I'm just trying to be realistic and true to the way I see things happening. This is just _my_ idea

Well, 'nuff o that. Here's the chapter for ya'll. Have fun

-.-.-.-.-

**Chapter Two: Confused**

.-.-.-.-.-

Keira had been working non-stop. If it had been two hours or twelve, she wouldn't have been able tell you. Behind her welding mask it was neither day nor night. All she knew was that she had been hard at work since the second she had returned to her shop...

…after seeing Jak…

Right now, however, she had pushed any thoughts of that man right out of her head.

It was silly, she knew it. Running away from things never solved anything. But old habits are always the hardest to kick, and this one had two long years running for it.

Two years ago…

That had been the most frightening time in her life. She hadn't known where her father was. She hadn't known where her friends were. She hadn't even known where _she_ was.

So she chose not to think about it.

For a long time, those two years ago, she had wandered the strange streets of this place called Haven until she could no longer distract herself by walking. It was lonely and it got dark too quickly and soon she was hungry and no one was there to feed her. So she found a job at the one thing she was good at. It was nothing terribly big, just a tiny shop near the edge of the pier a few businesses down from the Hip-Hog where she got to fix malfunctioning cruisers and the occasional zoomer for enough pay to keep her alive. The manager hit on her and so did his son, but she ignored them and dived head-first into any work given to her. This got her pretty well known, but it was no where near enough to get her out of that hell-hole.

If it hadn't been for Errol, she probably would still be in that tiny garage…

Alone...

Keira paused in her work to flip open her welding mask and wipe away some sweat with her forearm before it could run into her eyes. What was she doing feeling sorry for herself? It wasn't smart letting her mind wander, what with the mood she was in. At this rate she'd be too depressed to finish…

"Working hard as always, I see."

The mechanic jumped a mile in her seat, her mask smacking back down over her face.

"Errol!" the young woman cried, spinning around on her stool to face the intruder. She then realized her head-equipment was still in the downward facing position and, letting out a huff of annoyance, tore it off her head, mask and all. "You-you _jerk_! You scared me!" Before the man could respond, Keira had already chucked the helmet in his direction.

"Watch where you're throwing things!" the captain cried playfully as he easy dodged the item that flew at him. The helmet passed him and bounced harmlessly off the wall. "I only wanted to stop by and say hello. Is that a crime?"

The blue and green haired woman before him stood and crossed her arms, snorting disapprovingly as she did so. "It is if you give the person you're greeting a heart attack," she snapped. Despite her harsh tone, her lips found themselves curving into a smile. "I'm glad you came, though," she admitted finally.

Errol grinned. "It was no trouble," he assured her, taking a few more steps towards the mechanic as he slipped his hands into the tight pockets of his pants. "I thought you'd need some company after…well, what happened." The mood changed from playful to awkward as soon as the racer had finished his sentence. Keira shifted her weight and looked away. "It must be very hard," Errol continued in a softer manner, "losing a close friend." There was a pause and then the almost snotty tone was back. "Even if he _was_ a hardened criminal."

"You shouldn't talk about him like you know-- knew him," Keira snapped back, turning to face the Head of the Krimzon Guard once again.

"How are you so sure you knew him?" Errol countered with a laugh. "He never seemed anything like the nice boy you told me about." He took another step towards the woman, who stood her ground. "The fact is, Haven City is a lot safer without someone like…_him_ around."

"Just because Jak lost his way," Keira barked back, "doesn't mean he is…was a bad person. Deep down, he's still that friend," her voice slowly became louder, "and I don't like you being so…so _disrespectful_ of him now that he's--he's..." She trailed off, unable to say the next word. Eventually she had to look away.

She just couldn't do it, and she really hated playing at this; pretending Jak had died in the crash. But her father had made her promise she'd let no one outside the Underground know Jak had actually lived. Still, she kept slipping, and she didn't know how long she'd be able to hold out. She could only hope Errol took her stumbles as flustered grief…

"Oh, Keira," Errol cooed, snapping her out of her thoughts as he closed a little more of distance between them. He continued to break the gap between them until he was close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. A yellow and charcoal colored glove rose and cupped the young woman's chin. "That's one of the things I love about you," he continued, smiling down at her. "You always see the best in people--the good." His thumb traced circles upon her cheek as he spoke. It was calming and she had to fight the urge to let her eyes fall closed. "But, sometimes," he continued softly. By now she was hanging on his every word. "There just isn't any good left…" As he spoke, Errol slowly began to lean towards the mechanic, their lips becoming dangerously close to touching.

Despite the dazed expression she wore, Keira was quite aware as to what was going on.

And she couldn't help but feel that maybe this is what she wanted to happen. After all, hadn't Errol saved her? If it he hadn't recommended her to the stadium, she would have never gotten her own garage or the chance to start her own team. He had made so many of her dreams come true. She owed him so much. One kiss…well, that was just a drop in the bucket, wasn't it?

And what if Jak never woke up, hmm? Or what if he did and they just continued to grow further and further apart? He obviously had a thing for Praxis' daughter. If she was with Errol, the two of them could go off and be happy.

She really wanted Jak to be happy…

Errol was so close now his breath was entering her slightly parted mouth. It tasted of spearmint covering alcohol. Defiantly not an _unpleasant_ sensation…

His lips barely brushed hers and--

"**KEIRA!**" blared her father's voice.

The pair flew apart so fast, Keira knocked over her work stool. Both looked around wide-eyed for the mechanic's father figure but he was no where to be found. It wasn't until the sage called again did they realize the voice was coming from Keira's pocket. Blushing horribly, she fumbled in the pocket for a moment before finally pulling out a communicator, which instantly unfolded in her hand and jumped into the air to hover anxiously around the young woman's head.

"**Keira!**" her father's voice repeated. "**What were you just doing?**"

"Nothing!" she replied quickly. Behind the comm., Errol stood ridged, hoping he wouldn't be spotted. Keira gave the officer a nod towards the door, trying to get him to leave the shop as quick as possible. He instantly understood and began inching his way out.

"**Good then,**" the sage on the other end of the communicator said, somewhat surprising his daughter. "**You need to get back as soon as possible.**"

"Why?" Keira asked, stalling for time. Her eyes darted quickly between the floating comm. and the escaping KG.

Her question was answered only by some muttering on her father's end, as if he was trying to figure out exactly how much he could say and was discussing the matter with someone else present. While he did so, his daughter turned just in time to see Errol dash safely down the stadium alley. She was just about to let out a sigh of relief when her father's voice once again began to blare.

"**You just need to get down here,**" he assured her quickly. With that the comm. fell silent and, after compressing itself back to its travel-sized form, returned to its normal place in her back pocket.

Now, Keira let out that sigh.

.-.-.-.-.-.

Outside the mechanic's shop, Errol gave his lips a rough wiping. Damn that old geezer! He had come so _close _to entrapping that mousy little girl when he had decided to call in and ruin it all!

"No matter", he insured himself as he started down the steps of the stadium. Now that the Eco-Freak was out of the picture, there would be nothing to keep him from gaining Keira as his mechanic.

And then he would be _invincible._

…well, more so, anyway.

…Still, he wished there were an easier way than having to kiss the homely little thing...

.-.-.-.-.-.

Samos returned his communicator to its previous place on his being before turning back to his right-hand man and his younger self. The two however had already redirected their attention to a cot behind him. The sage followed their gaze and for a moment all three looked on at the boy who sat upon the bottom bunk of the bed, peering intently into the mirror they had found for him. While he did so, his Ottsel friend was hard at work at unwrapping the teen's newly stained bandages.

Daxter had been the first to insist on the cleaning of his bud's wounds, interrupting the argument that had erupted anew shortly after Torn had made his entrance. His eagerness to play doctor had surprised the room, but his demands were quickly met once the others found he was surprisingly correct concerning Jak's plight. Then presented with some fresh bandages to work with, the small animal went straight to work. Or, he tried to. At first Jak had objected, more keen on the idea of doing the task himself than being fussed over, but that had led to a lecture from the rat and eventually the current mute had no other option but to given up.

Ashelin, although obviously still feeling a little ill at ease about the whole development, had pulled up a chair near by and was sitting on it backwards, her arms and head leaning upon its back with the Underground's haphazard first aid kit in her lap and crate of GE at her feet. She had been designated the job of handing bandages and such to the rat when needed, but at the moment she was simply sitting and watching, which suited her just fine.

When the moment had passed, Torn was the first to speak, addressing the eldest sage.

"Will he…be of any use to us now?" he asked. It was an innocent question. After all, Jak had been a strong member of the Underground for a long time. Torn could depend on him to get even the toughest of jobs done and as second in command, he'd need to know if more man-power would be required to compensate for the boy's loss.

Samos thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes," he stated confidently. "He will not know how to shoot, or how to ride…but he has saved the world before." The end of the older Shadow's reply caught the other two off guard. Once again, Torn and the younger Samos turned to take in the changed hero, who, at that moment, had just discovered his goatee.

The orange furred animal paused in his labor to watch his friend's inspection of the green facial fluff with a wide grin of amusement stretched across his hairy mug. "Yer nearly as hairy as me now," Daxter said ruefully. "Only _you_ have to _shave_." The blonde gave his friend an unconvinced look before going back to running his index finger through the fuzz that had appeared on his chin over the two years he was currently unable to remember.

"So, you don't speak," Ashelin stated suddenly, her chin buried in her arms. Jak glanced at her and shot up a green 'brow.

_Slow?_

"No, darlin', he don't speak," Daxter replied for his buddy as he did another lap around Jak's stomach, careful his tail wasn't bobbing around and smacking any of the wounds that were now slowly being exposed. "Can we move past that now, please?" The Ottsel made a twirling motion, with what would be considered his index finger to indicate the action of 'moving on' as he walked.

"Why?" she asked, ignoring the peanut gallery. This time Jak paused in the examination of his reflection to look full at her.

His eyes still made Ashelin uncomfortable. It was so much different than anything the man had ever directed at her before. So…innocent--just full of innocent curiosity. But then Jak looked away and scrunched up his face in thought, as if he'd never considered the question before. After a moment, the hero turned back to her and, smiling, simply shrugged.

_Don't wanna._

"Can't reason with that logic," Daxter joked loudly. "Mute's gotcha beat, princess." Instantly, Jak gave the fur-ball a good-natured smack across his head. "Oww!" the animal cried, dropping the ruined gauze in his paws to clutch his wounded head. Then, with an evil smirk, he gave one of the many patchworks of cuts across Jak's chest a light poke. The boy let out a short yelp of pain in response and, after sending a glare his way, returned the favor to Daxter by flicking the little animal on the nose. "Agh!" Daxter cried, paws jumping up to rub the irritated facial feature. This result sent a triumphant grin across the blonde elf's face and, now quite happy with himself, the teen went back to the mirror. His partner's muttering of complaints as he returned to his task were ignored.

From then on Ashelin returned to watching silently, taking the pair in. This new Jak fascinated her and frightened her at the same time. The hero's mannerisms had taken on such a drastic change. It was almost like watching a completely new person…

Was this really Jak? The Jak she knew didn't smile like this…He smirked; and only on occasion. It was an expression that gave you goose bumps; one that made you want to know what he was thinking and, at the same time, made you afraid of the answer. This Jak smiled openly, often. It was filled of optimism, something not seen often in her city. And never before had she seen his eyes that shade of blue…

While the Praxis slowly began to get lost in her own thoughts, the Ottsel across from her let out a victorious cry as he pulled the last bit of gauze around Jak's chest away to fall onto the bed sheets. "De-mummification complete!" he crowed happily, before turning his attention to Ashelin. "Hey, mind slipping some of 'dat green stuff there our way, Miss Thang?" With a small start, the red-head came back to the real world. She nodded absently as Daxter repeated his request, and bent down to relieve the box at her feet of one of its many glowing bags. When she sat back up to hand it to the rodent, her eyes instantly drifted from the fur-ball to his companion.

She wasn't the only one that found themselves staring.

Jak's wide blue eyes stared down at his now exposed chest, the mirror in his hands forgotten. Tan, worn skin lay under uneven smears of wet and dried blood left from a gash that stretched haphazardly across his chest. The faint purple of bruising peppered his left side, sharing space with traces of road-rash which by now had formed into streams of thin scabs. Other, minor wounds lay scattered around his torso, ranging in size from that of a finger nail to a fist.

And there was something else beneath the blood. Something black, unnatural…

A hand rose to brush some of the blood away, curious, but it was batted away by a smaller, fuzzier one. "Hey, hey," Daxter snapped in protest, the GE bag given to him by Ashelin tucked protectively under his furry arm. "Whatcha' trying to do, huh?" Jak rolled his eyes in response and made a grab for the package the Ottsel was carrying. Daxter instantly reacted by twisting out of the way. Still, Jak persisted and after a bit of a fuss over it, the orange furred creature finally and reluctantly relinquished ownership over the eco. Once again triumphant, the blonde ripped the baggie open with his teeth before setting to work on his own this time.

A slight hiss rose from the eco as it connected with Jak's skin. He flinched as it sunk into his wounds, some staying upon his skin to eat away at the blood coating him, leaving the flesh around it clean. He concentrated on the gash and some of the other, larger injuries first, making sure each one completely closed, leaving behind a new, thin pink layer of skin, before moving onto the next. The bag was empty by the time he finished with the fourth, but he didn't notice. By now all the blood had been absorbed by the goopy green disappearing into his skin, giving him a much clearer view of his abdomen.

Uneven and unnatural scars were carved into his skin, almost in some sick idea of a pattern. It was evident these had been forced to heal naturally, discoloring around most suggesting infection during the slow process. With the tip of his finger, still covered in green eco, Jak traced one that slanted across his stomach. The eco quickly disappeared beneath his skin as usual, but the scar was left unchanged.

_What…?_

Confused, Jak withdrew his hand, but it shot back to his abdomen as he noticed one last anomaly across his skin; a tattoo, black, running vertically down his right side. From what he could make out from his vantage point, it just seemed to be a random series of numbers and letters. Running two fingers across it, he--

_Blackness…_

_A dull humming penetrated his throbbing head. _

_No telling where that was coming from…or where he was for that matter. Well, he was on his back, on something extremely cold. That's a start…None of this was in the least familiar, the humming or the freezing bed. He sure as hell didn't remember falling asleep anywhere like that before…_

…_wait, when _did_ he fall asleep? _

_Okay, head still hurt so no thinking about that now. Best just get up and find out on his own. _

…_Problem. _

_Apparently he _couldn't_ sit up. Confused, he subconsciously tried to bring his hand up to hold his head, but just as before, something was keeping it firmly in place. Instantly his eyes opened to see what could be restraining him. This turned out to be a very stupid idea as a bright light flooded his vision upon doing so. With a small cry he squeezed them shut again, curses running through his head. _

_After a few more tests, he found that all of his limbs had been bound to the bed, which he was actually beginning to think was more like a table. Both hands had been pulled straight down by his side, his legs getting the same treatment, the restraints made of the same material as the table… _

_Whatever other observations he could have made were cut short as the pounding of boots on metal reached his ears and sent another wave of pain through his head. Absently, the throbbing in the back of his cranium reminded him of the time Dax whacked him on the back of the head with that plank…_

_Wait! Daxter! Where was Daxter? _

"_Is this the new one?" _

_His thoughts of his furry companion were momentarily pushed aside as this new voice pushed its way into the cloud of pain forming his mind. He squinted his eyes to try to find who was speaking but couldn't bring himself to lift his head. It felt so heavy… _

_Something grabbed his hair, pulling the rest of his head with it. _

"_He's too young."_

_He gritted his teeth as the large hand forced his head one way and then the other. Whoever it belonged to was inspecting him…_

"_That will make it all the more easier."_

_A new voice now, younger maybe? Why did it seem familiar…? _

"_None of the subjects you've selected have been this young. As such, I suspect his body will be less likely to reject your…treatments." _

_Treatments? The way the younger voice said the word made his stomach drop. Were they really talking about him?_

_What were they planning to _do_ to him? _

"_He better."_

_The hand relinquished the hold on his head and it fell back into the hard table with a painful clank. A groan escaped his throat upon impact. _

"_Shut that filth up." _

"_Gladly." _

_The humming he had forgotten about throughout the conversation above him suddenly drowned out all other noise. The clanking and whirling of machinery came with it. Suddenly something needle-like ripped into the skin of his chest, earning another cry of pain from deep in his throat. More followed it as one after another, spikes plunged their way into his skin like rapid fire. _

"_Say hello to your new name," said the familiar voice through the fog in his head. "A-3-F--_

"Hey, there buddy? Somethin' wrong? Yah froze up there…"

Jak gave a start, a hand shooting up to clutch at where he had just felt the needles rip his chest apart. But there was nothing there, no blood…

Just the tattoo and scars…

"H'okay, yer seriously freakin' me out here, Jak," came Daxter's voice to his side. "Yah look like you've seen a ghost-er-somethin'." The blonde turned to look at his small friend with wide eyes filled with confusion. Then he gave his bandaged head a careful shake in an attempt to clear it and a look of embarrassment replaced the confusion.

_Maybe…_

The Ottsel raised a furry eyebrow. "Suuuuuure. Whatever you _don't_ say, Jak." The fur ball was rewarded with an eye-roll and a smirk. This made Daxter's face break into a grin of triumph and he went back to rambling away while trying to rewrap his much larger friend. Listening intently to the rodent's pointless banter, Jak quickly forgot…whatever it was he had just seen and he too found himself smiling again in seconds.

"Hey, Tattooed Beauty," the rat said to Ashelin after a while as he finished tying off another roll of bandages around Jak's chest. "Mind handin' me another one?" The red-head rolled her green eyes at the nickname, and for allowing herself to be ordered around by Daxter, but complied and started to fish another package of dressings from the kit still in her lap. She was in the process of handing it to the little creature when the door at the back of the room slid open.

"Okay daddy, I'm here," Keira said as she entered the room, one hand already working on removing the riding gloves that had accompanied her outfit for the day. She gave no notice to the congregation around the furthest bunk as she made her way down the aisle through the middle of the room. Instead she focused on where her father and his younger clone stood in their usual spots behind the war desk. "What's the big deal?"

"As unperceptive as she is beautiful," came a dry comment from the Ottsel perched on the cot behind her before either sage could even think of opening his mouth. "At least she hasn't changed much, 'aye Jak?"

Every muscle in the mechanics body tensed.

Surely he couldn't mean…

Of course, he was only joking…

Ever so slowly, Samos' daughter turned her head, not daring to believe what she was hoping for. Hell, hadn't she spent the ride over berating herself for even considering it as a possibility? She was just setting herself up again for another fall, she knew it.

But there he was, sitting up in the cot, grinning at her.

No, not grinning, _smiling_.

Before she knew what she was doing, she had thrown her arms around the young man's waist, burrowing her head into his newly bandaged chest. The sudden tackle gained a small 'oof' sound from the hero, a pained expression crossing his face as Keira attached herself to him. Once fastened to him, her mouth just began spewing out a mixture of his name and 'omigod,you'reawake' on its own accord.

She must have looked like such an idiot, clinging to him like a lost child like that. At least she wasn't crying. She was so sure she was going to, too…

To her surprise, almost instantly, a rough hand rose to rub her back comfortingly. She looked up, confused at this sudden change in character, and was met with a huge smile. Slowly one of her own grew, and, once in place, her head returned to his chest.

"I was so sure you weren't going to wake up," she whispered, squeezing Jak slightly to emphasize her joy in seeing him awake and well. The mechanic felt him shrug and laugh and silently waited for some comment of his to follow. When none did, she looked back up again, the smile no longer on her face. "Jak, what's wrong?" For a moment the blonde looked down at her, mouth twisting from the way he was biting the inside of his lip.

"He doesn't remember, Keira," her father explained from behind her. By now Jak had looked away completely.


	4. Bored

A/n: Sooo…I have no excuse for the wait and I doubt you'd really like to hear it, so before giving you the chapter, I just think someone needs to tell Jak that he _can _toggle that goatee of his.

-.-.-.-.-

**Chapter 3: Bored**

-.-.-.-.-

Torns don't take potty breaks.

This was the rather immature conclusion Jak had come to after spending the last two hours _staring_ at the man.

The blonde's dashing escape plan was beginning to crumble before his blue eyes. The guy just never moved! How was he supposed to sneak out if he _never moved_?

Jak wanted out of this hole in the wall. It'd been four days--four!--and he'd yet to be permitted to leave by Samos or his new dreadlocked flunky. Well…he'd been _told_ it had been four days; he couldn't exactly judge for himself in this windowless prison. Not that he actually believed that much time had passed. Time in dreams was always supposed to be pretty funky.

Yes, Jak was sure he was dreaming. Positive. He _had_ to be. It was the only explanation for any of the crazy he'd awoken to. Two Samoses? Facial hair? Dax having a freaking girlfriend? _How_ was he supposed to accept this obnoxiously small room and whatever was outside it as reality when absolutely everything presented to him pointed to the complete opposite conclusion. This was…what had Samos called it?…a lucid dream. One where you know you're dreaming and can control it--unless of course there's a Samos in said dream. Then he controls you.

The whole Dax with a girlfriend thing was actually pretty cool, he had to admit. He'd never seen it _coming_, but he'd never deny the fact it rocked. The girl, Tess, was nice, which is always a plus--she'd stopped by the other 'day' to coddle him and his furry friend which left Dax grinning from ear to furry ear for 'hours' after--and Jak liked her a lot, despite her…quirks. Those…tended to start off a few warning fires for him.

See, Tess stuck around for only a little bit the other 'day', but it was enough for Jak to catch a few things. And he realized that she had a tendency to, well, not match. It was hard to explain, but sometimes it was her face or sometimes it was her voice, but ever so often, they'd contradict. She _seemed_ a bubbly person by nature, so one stayed on that default while the other expressed what Jak supposed were her actual feelings.

Those frightened him a bit, mainly cuz Tess's 'actual' feelings tended to be rage or violent passion. Thank the Precursors it seemed to be a rare occurrence.

Well, disregarding the half-mood swings, Tess remained his favorite of the new dream-people, if only for the fact she was the only one to say she liked seeing him smile.

That was another _really_ annoying thing! Apparently everyone was suddenly surprised to see him with any happy expression. Well, essentially any expression that wasn't either a scowl or a glare or some combination of the two. Like the thought of a Happy Jak just flat out broke their brains. It especially freaked out Torn (who had a stupid name, the blonde had childishly decided after the third 'day' of his consciousness) and that red-head who was far too clingy for his liking.

And Jak didn't know why! He smiled all the time and if these people knew him half as well as they kept saying they did, they would be fine with it like any other person! _Not_ be freaked out by it.

Even…even Daxter did it. Sometimes. Just…sometimes. Looked at him like by smiling he was doing something wrong. It bugged Jak a lot more when it came from Dax. The same look from Torn would have made him roll his eyes--it always did--but the few times it came from Dax made him falter.

Dax was the only familiar thing other than Samos and Keira in this dream--a constant while the other two only appeared once in a while. Seeing him with the same look…it kinda hurt. Okay, it really hurt.

He asked once, back on 'day' two. And Dax hadn't answered, 'least not directly. He'd told him not to worry about it--that it was just weird seeing him up-and-about after two full weeks of him being konked. But Jak knew it had something to do with the two dream-years he'd lost.

It usually came back to those…

After that, Dax stopped making that face. But that was just _that_ one. There was another expression that popped up ever so often that threw Jak for a loop. Just this sudden look of pure relief.

None of it made sense.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. The looks just got old after a while. Jak was getting used to ignoring them. But what probably boggled the young man's mind the most was how in the world he was able to dream _while_ dreaming. He knew that sounded insane--_he_ thought it was insane. It's just…the rest he could dismiss--the rest was just a dream! He couldn't expect it to make much sense in the first place. This, though, was just plain pushing it. He'd never heard of dreaming in a dream. Ever.

He would've asked Ol' Log-In-The-Head or his twin if they'd ever heard of such a thing, but knowing the logic this dream-world worked on, he suspected their answer would amount to; "Of course not. Because you're not dreaming."

And he was _obviously _dreaming. He would get tired and close his eyes and actually _felt _himself drift off and the dream-within-a-dream started up like the clockwork in the Mayor's cabin. It never changed either, this weird, freaky dream. Every time, he hoped it would. Jak hoped every time he closed his eyes that he'd just open them to his uncle's ceiling but…not yet. And the dream persisted, unaffected. He was always racing…

He couldn't remember anything more about said 'dream' once he'd 'awoken' besides the racing, but he tried to think it didn't matter. And even if it did, thinking about it made his head hurt more that usual, so it was better just to…

…oh, Torn had looked up.

Grinning, Jak waved from his cot. As usual, the older man scrunched those naked brows of his and snorted before going back to his stupid maps. Jak gave a rare frown and his detest for the strangely marked man grew just a lil' more.

"Ten orbs says he doesn't look up for another two hours," the bundle of orange curled around Jak's shoulders snapped. Daxter leaned his chin on his paw, his elbow digging ever so slightly into his older friend's collar bone. Jak rolled his eyes then gave Daxter a dubious look.

_Only ten?_

"They don't grow on trees anymore, buddy-boy," the creature commented matter-of-factly. This did nothing to change his larger friend's unconvinced expression for a moment. Then the blonde cracked a sudden amused grin, eyes gleaming as he mentally twisted his friend's words into something ridiculous. Daxter pawed his face. "That's _not _what I meant and you _know _it!" Jak only grinned wider. For that, the ottsel gave his head a push and thus, in Jak's mind, initiated a challenge.

The teen threw his shoulders back abruptly, causing a yelp of surprise from his friend who was now scampering to stay on his perch. Carefully hidden claws shot out to dig into his friend's new tunic, but to no avail. Off Daxter fell only to lunge at his buddy's back after landing with a holler. Jak yelped and laughed in the same breath, knocked onto his chest but not staying there for long.

Jak had missed this--goofing off with Dax and shoving him around and getting shoved back. They hadn't had much of a chance to do this after his friend got changed. Nearly right after they were off to find-and-or-stop the Acherons. Sure, saving the world had its own perks, and Jak loved playing hero, but he missed the free-time that was sacrificed when being one. The last couple weeks, though, they'd been permitted down time and just picked up where they'd left off, just being friends again. Well, they got down time when they weren't lugging parts of the Ring from the Sentinel to the Green Sage's hut that is.

…that should be finished, actually. Jak supposed that once he awoke from his whacky lucid dream-land, it'd be just about time to get that thing running…

After a moment of some rather embarrassing wrestling that eventually forced Torn into giving them a few more of his weird looks (Dax thus losing the bet and owing his concussion ridden friend ten orbs he didn't have), the boys settled back down.

…with still absolutely_ nothing_ to do.

They were back where they had started, bored out of their minds and stuck, apparently _forever_, in this hellish little hole.

Jak _really_ didn't like this 'Underground' place. Decided this day 'one'.

It was musty and kinda cold and smelled stagnant like the swamp and something dry he couldn't place. Even though this was apparently where Samos lived now--only apparently seeing as he came and went more than anyone and the boy hadn't even seen him or his double since 'yesterday'--none of the sage's tomes were around for the blonde to read, or any of his plants for him to care for. The only things around were maps he couldn't understand and posters of people he'd never seen.

A few of them did have words scribbled across them, but the handwriting was worse than Dax's in places and he couldn't make them out. Besides, the most interesting one was behind Torn and it became pretty obvious that the man felt uneasy with Jak at his back. Whenever the blonde tried to read that one, the brunette would turn around and stare at him with this annoyed, quit-wasting-my-air-and-go-back-to-your-cot kind of look until it bullied Jak into doing just that, going to his cot and again, doing nothing.

And don't even get him started on the people. Only one he liked was Tess, period. The rest were as bad as or worse than Torn. Just…angry dream-people, walking in and out at all hours to get orders barked at them by Samos or Torn and shoot glares at him. Some knew him too, or at least Daxter. Mainly they just glared and kept their distance. One, though, he got a _little_ too friendly. Kept calling Jak 'Pretty-boy' and poking him the arm, commenting in his greasy accent about how he better not 'turn pussy' on them now. Actually, forget the accent, _everything_ about him had been greasy.

Jak hadn't liked that guy…

So…this place was boring. Even with Daxter and the occasional unhappy visitor, it was boring.

Jak, really, didn't do boring. He did lazy, only on occasion, but _not_ boring. Not for long. Jak was a hero. Heroes, in his book, don't sit on their butts, waiting for permission to get up and explore. Heroes don't _need_ permission to do _anything_. It was in their job description or…something. If he had waited for permission, he'd never have saved the world from the Acherons, because he would have never gone to Misty Island and stumbled upon their briefing the Lurkers.

Torn just didn't get that.

He was too caught up in protocol and following Samos' orders to the letter by keeping the blonde a prisoner to get it. Jak had tried explaining it to him, but _apparently _the older man couldn't read him--not that that was much of a surprise; it seemed nobody but Daxter could anymore--and didn't get give a leaping Lurker's behind about anything his friend said.

Samos didn't get it, either, but then again he never had. His word was law, and Jak was supposed to conform to that law and stay here. Until it was changed. End of story.

Not that, you know, Jak _listened_ to that. He wasn't one to follow orders he didn't believe in and this was no exception. He'd _tried_ to escape. He'd _been _trying. Most mad dashes just ended with him being tackled and lugged back to where he'd been sitting.

You wouldn't think Torn was a strong guy, but…Even if Jak didn't have a policy against hurting other elves, it would've taken some effort to drop that guy. Especially when Torn seemed to hold no qualms about pressing that dagger he wore on his back to Jak's tan throat.

So…Jak, for now, was stuck. He just wished there was something he could do or someone besides _Torn_ to interact with. Right now he'd be ready to settle for a rock. It'd probably talk more.

As if the Precursors had heard his prayer, the door at the back of the room opened with the unfamiliar 'swooosh' it always made.

"Babydoll!" cried Daxter as he recognized the visitor as his favorite barmaid. He scampered up the ladder that connected his friend's bunk to the one above, coming to the new blonde's eyelevel as she approached.

"Hiya, snookums," the woman replied almost too sweetly as she gave the animal a loving scratch behind one of his ears. Daxter's face melted into over exaggerated bliss, which Jak felt obligated to roll his eyes at.

"And hi Jak!" Her greeting to him was almost an afterthought, but he didn't mind. The teen just smiled in return, the exchange ending with Tess letting out an amused giggle. "You've sure become friendly," she commented. For a moment, Jak took on an almost wounded expression, but his features quickly switched to surprise when the blonde unhooked something from her back and tossed it to him with no warning other than a quick, "Here you go". He caught the thing reflexively, instantly amazed at the object's weight that betrayed its size. Looking down at the item he cradled, the teen tried to decide what exactly had just been presented to him.

It was half a hand longer than his arm, black and cold. The material it was made from seemed like Precursor metal but he dismissed the idea simply because the color was all wrong, added to the fact he could find no engravings on it anywhere and it didn't react to his touch. On one end, near the top (or perhaps the bottom--he'd figure out how to hold the thing when he figured out what it was), there was a handle, but when he tried to fit his hand into it, he found a bit of metal kept his pinky from reaching the rest of the way around. Turning it slightly, Jak realized the metal was a small square frame that connected the handle with the side of the contraption. Then, inside the frame, there was a…

A trigger.

Eyes now wide with surprise, Jak flipped the thing in his hands to look at the other end. It sure didn't resemble what the man in the swamp had, but that was most certainly a barrel.

"Does he not know what a gun is?" Tess asked Daxter, the question both bringing Jak from his thoughts and confirming them.

"He does," Dax replied, dropping down a rung while eyeing his friend's expression to better read the look of realization. "He just remembers the really old crap models, 'ey buddy?" Absently, the blonde nodded, only half hearing the comment. He was still quite fascinated with the 'new model' in his hot little hands

He'd never had opportunity to fire a gun before. Dax had almost asked for him to once but they both knew Samos would've had their collective hides if he had found them blowing off their quest to try out the swamper's boom-stick.

The idea that he now had his very own 'boom-stick' brought a wide grin to the teen's lips.

"This a gift from Sig?" Daxter was asking while Jak began fitting the gun the right way in his hand. Though he didn't see it, Tess shook her head.

"Nope! I made it." The ottsel gave an impressed whistle.

"Really, sugar? You dirtied those pretty lil' hands a'yers with gun-makin'?"

"Sure!" came the happy reply. "I make lotsa guns. Big ones, small ones, ones with thermo missile slugs that seek down enemies' heat signatures with blaster attachments and blow them up to singed smithereens!" Jak paused in his inspection to look up at the woman in astonishment. Her sweet expression hadn't changed and she let out another bubbly giggle. "It's a hobby. Morph guns are real easy," she concluded as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Without his consent, Jak's jaw went slack.

This was what he meant by 'not matching'.

Daxter, after recovering from his own minor shock at the mood-swing, turned and wiggled his eyebrows at his buddy below. "Oooh, I do _love_ a woman who knows howtah use her hands!"

Any further flirtatious banter was cut short as Torn approached the little gathering. "Tess," he addressed the blonde in a tone Jak instantly recognized as his 'business' tone. It wasn't that hard to tell the difference between that tone and his 'annoyed, stop-touching-everything-you-idiot' tone. Torn didn't have any others beside those two to begin with. "This just a social call?"

Jak wasn't the only one who caught the threat in that statement.

"Nope," chirped Tess, voice still carbonated and warm. This time, though, her face was the one to change--it was the one that didn't match. The blonde's face had morphed to match Torn's tone, nothing but 'business'.

It was moments like this that made Jak _really_ wonder about Tess…

"I've got orders from the Shadow," Tess continued, smiling away. "I'm here to relieve you of your babysitting duty."

"Amen!" crowed Daxter. "Hallelujah, I have been saved!" The only female present stifled another giggle accompanied by Jak's quiet smiling while the ottsel swung happily from side to side, stopping only after a moment with a new mock-serious disposition. "Yah know, he was withholdin' our snack-time and everythin'."

Torn ignored the rodent, stone-blue eyes locked on his operative. "Is that really such a good idea?" he asked. "He could be recognized. It's too soon."

"The Shadow thinks he should get back on his feet as soon as possible. I'm going to take him to the gun course down South Town." Her voice rose on a jolly note of the prospect of this 'gun course', lips parting in a white smile of what the other blonde assumed to be assurance.

Torn looked about as unconvinced as ever. Maybe…Jak tilted his head just a little, taking in the older man's face, studying it. Was that…worry? Regardless, the blank mask of indifference returned within the moment and Torn inclined his head, hands rising in defeat.

"Take him," was the final gruff reply. "Please."

"Yes!" Daxter toppled backwards through the rungs and into his best friend's waiting arms while said best friend let out a victorious whoop. "Scoooore!" Jak fell onto his back and laughed as he watched the fur ball standing on his chest pose in his usual triumphant fashion.

Torn snorted after a moment, turning back to his war table. "Get dressed and leave."

Jak's face scrunched up into distaste as the mention of dressing reminded him of the mound of clothes sitting at the foot of 'his' bed. He shot an unhappy look at the pile. He'd been given a new change of clothes the other 'day' to replace the simple boxers he'd 'awoken' in. The shirt and knee-length pants had gone on automatically over his bandaged self but he'd opted to leave out the jacket, gloves and boots. Simply too constricting. His eco ring, which amazingly had come through the accident with little damage, was hanging from one of the bunks near the door but he wouldn't be putting that back on until his chest was less banged up.

While the hero's furry little friend attempted to convince him to put on something from the pile, Torn beckoned Tess over to his table.

"Watch him," he instructed, motioning a large, bony hand towards the blonde on the bed. "He's weaker than he looks and if he really doesn't know anything about Haven, wont know what he's getting himself into."

"He has Daxter," Tess countered. It was a valid point. The loudmouth complained enough about all the possible hazards in their missions to alert the amnesia ridden teen of at least a few now.

Still, Torn didn't want to risk it. Jak was their trump card--had been their trump card against the Baron for a long time and while he was near useless at the moment, he'd make sure they didn't lose him. Well, anymore than they already had. The Underground was still recovering as it was…

…no thanks to Torn.

"Still." Reluctantly, Tess nodded before heading back over to usher the renegade and ottsel out the door.

"Don't gimme that look," Orange Lightening was saying as Tess approached, wagging a finger in Jak's face. "Yer gonna be real sorry when we finally get back out there and you decided not to put those on." The rat pointed to the subject of the argument; Jak's boots. Jak responded to this by imitating his friend's flapping jaws with not only his own mouth but also the use of a bandaged hand. Appalled, the ottsel crossed his arms dramatically and looked away with a scoff. "Fine, Nature-boy. Have it yer way. Just don't come cryin' to me when you get glass or somethin' stuck in yer foot." Despite the lecture, the elf grinned, a large hand ruffling the fur on his friend's head.

_Mommy Dax_.

"Hey now!" the rat in question barked, recognizing the now teasing twinkle in the hero's eyes. Jak's mouth only stretched wider.

"O-o-okay boys," Tess said, laughter in her voice. She gestured towards the door. "We ready to go?"

"Sure, 'Toots." Daxter rolled his eyes at Jak as he hopped to his customary position atop the teen's shoulder. Though, without his shoulder guard, they were stuck in rather tight quarters. For balance, the ottsel wrapped his tail snuggly around Jak's neck, shooting his friend a grin only to check if the safety precaution wasn't strangling him. Jak smiled right on back and stood. "Onward!" crowed the rodent, pointing towards the door while his other paw wrapped itself into Jak's messy yellow-green hair. A gauze-wrapped fist pounded the air in response.

Finally, Jak thought. Freedom…

-----

Torn steepled his fingers as he watched Tess lead the boys out of his hideout, chatting all the way. The ex-commander waited until he heard the wall close behind them before sighing.

This was going to end badly. He just _knew _it.

Sometimes he _really_ didn't know what the Shadow was thinking. Either of them. Sure, he trusted the old coots with his life, but…sometimes their decisions drove him mad.

Especially when it came to Jak.

That kid…every day it became more apparent to Torn exactly how much of an exception he was in the scheme of things. Nothing held him down. No one had climbed the ranks as fast as the teen. He'd been wondering for a while if he'd given him too many connections to work with. After that stunt at the palace, Torn'd decided he _had_.

But…Jak was good.

Was. Very much _was_.

He had known what he was doing. He used to use those connections wisely. But…there was no telling what used they'd be to him now.

Elbows to his table, the man placed the heel of his palms to his tattooed forehead and ran them to his temples. This was moving too fast. Despite how uncomfortable it made both of them feel, keeping Jak here in the Underground was needed. At least for a few more days. The kid wasn't ready! He…he certainly was never wet behind the ears but now…

Mar be damned, he'd been downgraded from a pro to a rookie! And what's worse, Praxis had the entire city believing he'd been killed in that crash. If the guards recognized him now, even _with_ a gun, the reports could very well become true.

Torn wondered if Jak would even put up a fight.

It'd really shaken him, the day the blonde decided to make a run for it. It was the second day after his awakening, the first time he'd been left alone with Torn in command. Apparently, he'd gotten into his head that he'd defy the Shadow--typical Jak reaction, really. He should've seen it coming. Authority always did rub the runt the wrong way--and the moment Torn had taken his eyes off him, he'd bolted, rat on his shoulder whooping jailbreak.

See, Torn had expected retaliation when he'd tackled the kid. Otherwise he would've never pulled out his knife. Overkill was reserved for scaring new recruits. He already knew that trick didn't work on Jak. …At least he'd thought it wouldn't.

There was actual fear in the young renegade's eyes when that blade was pressed to his skin this time. Trust as well, that Torn wouldn't _actually_ slice his jugular and let him bleed away on the steps. But mostly fear. The kid had gone slack and cowered.

And that would be why Torn didn't believe he was ready. Jak had _never_ shown fear. Never before. Every mission, no matter how dangerous, how suicidal, the kid used to just grin. Grin like he wanted to see someone _try_ and graze him. Bring it on. He obviously saw himself bullet proof.

…not this new Jak. No, not this new Jak. This new Jak was going to go out into Haven and it would frighten him, Torn _knew _it. It'd chew him up and spit him back out like every other rookie that'd passed the Underground's graffiti wall.

Whatever happened to harden him over the last two years since he came--and Torn would bet money, _big_ money that it had quite a lot to do with the Baron's Prison--had been desperately needed, in at least some part. Jak needed that hardness, that awareness that life was shit and that it never stopped being shit until you made it. It was no easy feat, and it would fight right back. But you couldn't let it win, let it kill you. That knowledge is what used to set him apart from the rookies. That understanding that this world isn't a good place to be.

He'd never tell the kid, but Torn was really starting to believe Jak was the key to taking down the Baron simply because he knew that.

Used to know.

Torn looked at Jak now and…it was like looking at the kid. The little kid that clung to Kor's robe like it was his mother's skirt tails. They shared the same fear, the same unashamed happiness and the same obliviousness to the hardships and hell closing in all around them. They were, both Jak and the kid, total innocents.

Torn couldn't use innocents. He'd never wanted to try and use innocents. He was a hard man, but that was one thing he just hated to see leave people. Innocence doesn't live long in Haven City, but you sure as hell notice it when it's there and when it's gone.

But you can't be innocent and overthrow someone like Praxis.

See, the Shadow--the older, wiser Shadow--had already explained in as much detail as he could spare what it was Jak had been--and what he'd become again. He was a slayer of evils--which was a horribly ironic thought for Torn, as he remembered far too vividly the last time he saw the teen's eyes flash violet black--and while he sure didn't think the guy a saint, the old commander knew Praxis was no great evil. He was a corrupted, twisted man who'd stolen his power out from under a truly great man, but he wasn't evil.

He wasn't insane either, while we're at it.

Praxis was just a man, and if that tussle on the steps had been any indication, Jak couldn't kill a man anymore. Oh, maybe give some Metalheads a run for their gems, sure, but that was only so much help. When what's wrong with the world is the people in it, you need someone who can realize what they're fighting doesn't have to be evil to be wrong. It doesn't have to deserve death to get it. It's just how things work.

Torn could tell the teen that, and he would've if it would've done some good, but it wouldn't. That harsh of a reality doesn't sink in until the blood's on your hands and you realize there's no washing it off. And that it's going to be staying there with you for the rest of your life. You're a murderer now and there's no going back, so why stop? There's no explaining that feeling to someone. It's a life experience. It's what Jak used to know far too well.

With another sigh, Torn realized keeping him here wasn't actually doing any good. The youth sure wasn't ready, but staying in a hole wasn't going to prepare him, either. The gun course might. Fear might. Preserving his innocence wouldn't. That needed to go.

Pop the kid's cherry then, he thought bitterly. Do it and get it over with soon.

Still, for the first time since the cocky bastard stormed down his alley, Torn couldn't stop himself from hoping he at least wouldn't get shot today.


	5. Feared

-.-.-.-.-

**Chapter 4: Feared **

-.-.-.-.-

As they stepped out into the musty sunlight of Haven, Daxter drew in a deep breath.

Finally! They were out of that stupid little kangarat hole!

Never in his mangy little life had Daxter been so happy to smell the stink of Haven air; he let his breath out in a sigh.

Under his paws, Jak, who had been studying the scenery with the same wide-eyed wonder identical to their first, oh, _five minutes_ in the dirty city, tore his eyes away to watch Daxter exhale. Once he had, the rat took on a goofy look of satisfaction.

"Ah, the outdoors. My natural calling. How I have missed thee."

Jak snorted before drawing in a lung full of Haven air for himself.

Bad idea. He coughed.

Tess, beside the two of them, blinked as the blonde doubled over for a moment, coughing all the while. "Eheh, 'e's just not used to the certain scents of t'city life," Orange Lightning supplied to the barmaid while rubbing the back of Jak's head sympathetically. "You'll get used to it, though, 'eh buddy?"

Jak finally straightened and pulled the red scarf around his neck over his nose and mouth.

_Who says I want to?_

Dax frowned. So he still had that mindset, did he?

Not that he blamed his friend any for it. Haven was nothing like Sandover. It still baffled the rat up the wall that it _used to be_ Sandover. Or…Dead Town used to be Sandover. Haven very well could just be an add-on that—okay, NOT the topic.

Regardless, Daxter understood. It was freaky. It was new. It smelled to high heaven in parts. Jak needed time to get used to this place if he was going to accept it as his new home.

This was no dream, though. The sooner his friend accepted that, the quicker things could go back to the crazy sort of normal they'd been operating in for the last couple months. He knew where blondie was coming from, of course. How long had _he_ been running the streets back in the day thinking "This is one hella'va nightmare"?

…Daxter just really didn't want to be the one to burst his buddy's bubble, is all. Ever. And he just _knew_ he was gonna get assigned that job soon. Jak had already proven quite bluntly earlier in the week that he only listened to Dax.

He just…Dax had never been the voice of reason or reality. He was the coward. He made things look darker than they really were so his buddy didn't have to worry about it being dark at all. Or…used to. Jak hadn't worried about the dark for a long while now…

Jeez, this was just weird!

It was weird before, too. Back in prison. The difference used to scare him—like _really_ scare Daxter. Of course, he never let it show. Well, really he couldn't. But, regardless, it didn't show and he got used to it just like he got used to this town.

A bigger, badder Jak for a bigger, badder adventure. If the world goes to hell, why shouldn't its hero, right?

Then he just…switched back. Like suddenly someone decided they'd turn back on the lights. And then Jak was just Jak. Just…Jak, and all the things that used to imply.

…He'd never realized it before, but after watching him the last couple days, his best friend was…so childish.

Weeeeird thought.

They rounded the corner, Daxter flapping his gums like if he didn't now, he'd never get the chance. He was mainly berating his buddy for being so closed minded about their new locale, but it was lost to Jak when he froze, eyes locking on the traffic overhead. On the zoomers that made up that traffic. Deep blue eyes that didn't nearly used to be so dark went wide. His mouth fell open in a gape under the scarf.

_Wooooow_.

"Yeah, like that don'tcha?" Dax leaned heavily on his friend's head and just _grinned_. The blonde nodded quickly—of course there wasn't a verbal response, quit expecting one, Dax—and continued to track each hovering device that passed overhead with his baby blues.

Just look at that look. It was like they'd stumbled upon his birthday present months early.

You know, you never realize how much you love and miss simple shit like seeing your friend's eyes light up until it reminds you it was gone.

They didn't _really_ have to get Jak's memory back, right?

"Hey boys!"

Orange ears perked at the sound of Tess's voice. Dax turned towards his might-as-well-be girlfriend while giving his friend's head a shove to do the same. Jak rubbed his head, shooting Dax a look after reluctantly tearing himself away from watching the skies.

_Hey. Not necessary_.

Obvious, Jak was ignored.

"I've got a two-seater stashed in an alley just down the way," Tess was saying, already a few steps ahead of them. She pointed a thumb over her shoulder, now walking backwards. "C'mon, it's right over here."

The other blonde nodded, smiling away as he caught stride with Tess. After a moment of letting his friend get away with grinning at his girl, Dax switched shoulders, effectively putting himself between them.

"Don't be getting' any ideas, Wonder Boy," Dax hissed in Jak's ear. "Sheeee is taken." Jak just rolled his eyes.

They both knew he had no interest in Tess. He never had.

Still, Daxter had to mark his territory. Primal instincts and animal stuff like that.

Comment made and effectively blown off—an exchange the barmaid in question was very much not oblivious to and was now gigging over—the ottsel proceeded to strike up another conversation.

Time to educate blondie here about his new running grounds.

"So, this mud hole is the slums." Dax raised both arms, turning slightly from side to side to indicate he was speaking of their surroundings. "All'a Haven ain't like this, this portion's just more unlucky than most." Jak nodded, looking for all the world like he might actually be retaining this information, which was quite a start. "Patrol's a lil' higher 'round here," the rodent continued, "so watch your step and don't be an idiot and run head long into anyone wearin' nothin' but black and red."

"Or black and yellow," Tess supplied. Dax nodded. How could he have forgotten those elites running about now?

"Avoid 'em like the freaking plague, even," finished Daxter. "'Least for now."

That ending caught Jak's attention. Now he was curious.

A green eyebrow shot upwards.

_For now?_

"Yeeeah, _for now_," was the snappish response. "These ain't no Lurkers, buddy-boy. We're talkin' big dudes with guns that ain't got no qualms about capping your goodie-two-shoes butt and you just ain't ready for that yet."

Jak frowned. Sure, he picked up on the concern in Daxter's voice, but never had his friend ever doubted his ability to go up against _anything_. Why was he starting now?

He pointed to the gun now holstered once more on Tess's back.

_We've got one_.

"Yeah, we got one, but do you know how to shoot it?" Dax folded his gangly arms. "No, yah don't. Sooo until you dooo, yer gonna be listenin' to me and _I_ say don't push it."

"He's got a point, Jak," Tess inserted.

Jak frowned, sighing out his nose, but made no more expressions of retaliation.

Good thing he still trusted his friend's judgment. Well, for the moment anyways.

As they walked to where this 'two-seater' waited for them,—which was apparently _not_ just down the way as they hadn't come across it yet; all the zoomers Jak saw were flying—Jak's eyes wandered. It was natural—expected. New place, new sights, and it was time to take them in. After a few minutes, he chanced to remove the cloth from over his face but continued to frown at the smell.

"It'll get better soon," Dax cut in, stopping mid rant to reassure his friend. Jak just nodded, blues drifting not two seconds later.

Then he stopped.

Then veered off completely.

Daxter, _poor_ Daxter, clung to a clump of hair as his buddy took off full sprint towards one of the large strips of missing street, wailing all the while. Jak jumped down into the ditch just as his fuzzy companion shouted in his ear, "T'hell you doin'?!"

In response, Jak bent down and picked up what looked to be a crude ball, straightened, showed it to Dax, and smiled.

_Helping._

Daxter just _blinked_. Jak didn't seem to notice.

The blonde crouched, one hand pressed to the soft soil beneath his bandaged feet and the other holding the ball under his arm, shoulder and upper arm straight to keep his buddy attached without his shoulder plate to hold on to. Daxter grabbed another, more secured fist of hair.

He knew this stance. If he was asleep, he'd know this stance.

Jak jumped, pushing them upwards and out of the pit that was taller than both of them combined. Daxter's feet cycled uselessly in the air as he floated above Jak's shoulders the few seconds it took from them to change from an upwards motion to a downwards motion.

Jak landed on the pavement with a wince.

Weren't his feet more callused than that? They were last time he checked…

Ignoring the pricks of pain now crawling up his legs from the soles of his feet, and an ache in his shoulder from his buddy's rough landing a moment after his own, the teen straightened and redirected his gaze to what had caused him to run off so suddenly.

Two children, a boy and a smaller girl, the latter of which now hiding behind the former.

Jak approached the two, mouth upturned in a friendly, warm smile. He crouched in front of the boy, a small redhead that was shielding the girl—most likely his sister from the same hair color—with both arms and offered him the ball.

_Here_.

The boy looked at him with obvious distrust. Like Jak had done something to his toy after rescuing it. The larger blonde just continued to smile, head tilting slightly as he turned the globe in his large hand.

_Take it_.

Hazel eyes darted between the hero and the toy. To and back again, making Jak feel uncomfortable. Hopefully he didn't look that untrustworthy.

Suddenly the girl ducked under her supposed sibling's arm and reclaimed the ball from Jak with both hands.

"Ches!" the boy cried, arm reaching out to pull her back away. He tugged her behind him again and retook his protective stance.

Whoever he was, he sure didn't want the blonde hero near him or the girl.

Jak blinked, head tilting back the other way. His expression shifted, now hurt. Wounded.

_Sorry_.

"Hey, squirt, he just went 'n got that fer you," Daxter finally cut in, frown etched in his fuzzy face. "He didn't have'ta."

Jak waved his friend off. If they didn't want to trust him, that's fine. He'd saved their ball and that's all he'd meant to do. Standing, he regarded both children with another warm smile, even if it was only going to be met with more glaring.

It was then the girl, Ches, emerged again, all but pushing the boy aside. She shot him a quick scowl before looking back up at Jak. She smiled, showing she was missing a majority of her front teeth.

"My name'th Cheth," she said, cradling her ball as her shoulders swayed from side to side. "Thankth for getting our ball back."

This time when Jak smiled, he flashed his own teeth back at her.

_You're welcome._

"Yeah, yeah," Dax gave his ear a yank, "yer a real life saver—now, time to go!"

Jak wrinkled his nose, not liking being told what to do. They had time, far as he could tell. He wanted to play with the kids.

This was when he got an idea.

Out came the puppy dog eyes, one long index finger being brought up to Dax's eye level.

_Just one thing_.

The ottsel's eyes rolled, head thrown back in exaggerated exasperation. "Oh, fiiiine. What?"

The blonde's face split into a grin, one that was quickly directed to the kids, if only to check if they were still interested. They were. In fact, the girl seemed downright fascinated.

Seeing this, Jak's lips pulled a bit further, and he crouched, feet spread shoulder width apart.

He was sure they'd like this. Everyone in the village thought it was quite the hoot.

After a quick glance to his buddy, Jak gave two quick, short claps.

…and waited.

…and straightened to _glare_ at Daxter.

The ottsel rolled his eyes, hands shooting up into the air. "Whaaaaat?"

Ches giggled, perhaps thinking this was part of some bit. Tess, who had some point caught up to the strange little group, did as well.

Jak didn't notice. He was a bit busy giving his friend the evil eye while said friend was busy being a stubborn Yakow.

"No, seriously, I have _no_ idea what yer wantin' me to do."

The hero threw back his head in reply and sighed to the heavens. He could not believe this. Even _dream-Daxters_ should know _this_, c'_mon_.

Jak clasped his hands together.

_Okay, so_…

Large, bandaged hands proceeded to gesture wildly, being thrown out in front of their owner one minute then swung to the side the next. Arms opened in wide motions, legs and back bending at a point as the hands and arms swung between the gap between kneecaps. Then straightened.

Jak ended in what could only be described as a 'tada' pose.

To anyone watching, the display was horribly comical. Even the stuck-up redheaded boy was forced to cover his mouth. Both girls present were hiding their own snickers.

But Daxter had understood it all. That would be why his jaw had gone slack and he was giving his buddy a face that screamed his next words quite well all on its own.

"You've gotta be _kiddin'_ me!"

Jak shook his head.

"Do—do you know how _long_ its been since we _did that trick_?" he asked, voice running shrill near the end. "No way I'm doin' it now! I'm out of practice—outta shape! You could--" Realization dawned. The ottsel whipped out an accusing finger and jabbed it in Jak's face. "You could _drop me_."

Jak rolled his eyes, shifting his weight slightly to his other foot as his shoulder slumped.

_Oh, would _not.

"Pleathe, Mithter Rat man?"

Daxter blinked, mouth open and poised for a retort he'd just forgotten. The finger drooped as he looked downward.

Ches was pouting at him.

In all honesty, he didn't know Slum Brats could pout.

"Yeah, please?" echoed her brother—who's name they'd yet to learn and it was starting to bother the rodent.

"Yeah, _please_?" echoed Tess. She came up behind the two children and mimicked the younger female's pout wonderfully.

Jak broke into a grin before turning to his friend. His mouth shortened into a pout of its own. He even batted his eyes.

_Yeah, please?_

The look on Daxter's face was that of utter betrayal. "Not you too, baby-cakes," he shot to Tess. "I'd expect it from him," a wide gesture that ended with him smacking Jak in the face, "but not _you_."

"But Daxxie," Tess replied, "I can't help it. I'm so _curious_."

Jak smirked.

_Yeah, Daxxie_.

This did not go unnoticed. Daxter crossed his arms, purposely shoving one of his elbows roughly into Jak's temple. "Yeah, well…it won't be great, I'm tellin' yah right now. 'Fact, it'll probably suck. And if I get hurt, I'm suein' the lot of yah."

A cheer of enthusiasm rose from the girls while Jak and the boy simply grinned.

"You, uh, yah better catch me," Daxter hissed as Jak once again spread his stance. The blonde rolled his eyes. So little faith.

He clapped his hands twice.

Daxter gulped down a mouth full of air before shoving himself off Jak's shoulder and down towards the uneven pavement in an awkward dive.

For a few brief mili-seconds, he was sure he'd hit it...

Large hands caught his wrists just in time and changed his direction. He blinked as he passed between Jak's legs, eyes open in time watch the sky rushing towards him. His fur pushed back against his skin, pulled towards the ground as he left it behind.

He was flying. He was flying!

Precursors, how he missed this thrill.

Confidence filled his small chest. He knew what would happen next, but he wasn't afraid of it. Gravity would take him back down and when it did, he was ready for it. As he fell, he tipped his head back, spine arched, now in a graceful dive with paws pointed straight down at Jak's head.

Which was rapidly approaching now.

Time for the big finish.

While one of his scrawny arms remained straight, the paw flattened to be parallel with the forehead it was about to collide into, and the other arm flew out to the side. This slowed his fall slightly, not that he noticed. His face split into a huge grin.

Daxter's paw smacked onto Jak's waiting forehead. The teen bent his knees in time with the rodent's bending of his arm, thus cushioning his landing.

And then both stayed as still as possible. They'd never actually been able to stay _perfectly_ still after Daxter's landing, though, no matter how much they practiced. The wind was always blowing wrong. The ground was always just slightly uneven. It would've looked a lot neater if Dax could've landed and thus morphed into his friend, making an entertaining statue, but it just never worked.

So they moved. Slightly. Daxter's legs wobbled a bit one way and Jak was left to compensate with a bob of the head and a shifting of the shoulders. He kept his feet planted as he tilted side to side, eyes locked with his friend's.

They didn't break until a cheer arose from their audience. Once they had, they were both grinning, Daxter wider than ever.

"Yeah, that's right," the rodent said. He braced a hand to the back of Jak's neck and leaned down to address the little boy who was now clapping. "Yer impressed now, eh?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

"That was amazing!" Tess added, applauding.

If Jak didn't know better, that bit of praise caused his friend to blush. He assumed it did and a teasing glint passed through his eyes. Sadly, Daxter didn't notice.

"So you…liked that? Did you?" The ottsel's eyebrows bounced suggestively in the waitress's direction. He buffed his claws on the fur of his chest. "Well, babe, you know…"

Jak rolled his eyes. He knew what came next. What _always_ came next. This was the same line he'd used on Keira when they first thought up the trick for Precursor's sake! He'd used on the woman in the Rock Village, too, now that Jak thought about it…

"That's not t'_only_ trick I know."

Tess giggled and covered her mouth. "Oh, Daxter."

Jak. Could not believe. She'd fallen for that.

He threw back his head in disbelief, shoulder slack.

"CHES! BRYN!"

And the blonde snapped back to attention.

A skinny, frizzy-haired woman was running towards them, eyes frantic. She practically dove for the children in front of Jak and proceeded to push them behind her, very much like the boy had done to his sister earlier.

"Momma," Ches cooed and wrapped a small hand around the woman's skirt. "Momma, thith ith—"

"Go play inside," the woman hissed. Her eyes, green and brown like her children's, stayed locked on Jak as she pushed them backwards in the direction of the houses smashed together to make the city's wall. "T-Take your ball and go play inside."

"But…" The boy this time. He looked between Jak and his mother, apparently confused.

The panic in the woman flashed. "Go!" she almost yelled, ripping her gaze from the hero long enough to look at her children. They bolted, son pulling daughter, and disappeared.

Jak watched them leave in confusion. Had he done something wrong? Just by playing with them? Their mother was acting so strange, though, like…she was afraid of him. Afraid for her children for being around him.

But…that didn't make any sense.

He looked back to the woman, though, and it was so obvious. She was afraid. She was terrified.

"P-Please, stay _away_ from them," she said, clutching something around her neck. A dirty orange pendant. Precursor metal, the first Jak had seen since he 'awoke'. "I'm—I'm begging you, _please_."

Jak shook his head in confusion.

_I don't understand…_

"Oh, _please_!" she cried.

Suddenly, Daxter shot rigid. "Back off, lady," he snapped. "He wasn't doin' nothin' to yer brats." The woman blinked in surprise to the outburst. Obviously didn't expect the rat to speak. Didn't know how to respond to it. Daxter clicked his tongue against his teeth, annoyed. "C'mon Jak," the rodent ordered. He yanked Jak's ear for good measure, if only to make him stop staring in shock. "'Parently people ain't got manners 'round here neither."

The hero nodded, but only out of habit. His focus was still very much on this frightened woman.

Even as Tess led them away, he kept glancing back over his shoulder at her, until she returned to her house and shut the door. Then he just turned back around and shook his head.

It didn't make sense…

No one had ever…feared him before.


	6. Training

-.-.-.-.-

**Chapter 5: Training**

-.-.-.-.-

Tess had parked the two-seater she'd swindled out of her boss—a choice that'd set her back a few paychecks, but hell if she was there for the money, anyways—in the Dead Town alley for two reasons.

One, people rarely, if ever, jacked out of this alley—Slummers were some of the most religious people in the city and you can't get much more sacred to them than Old Sandover—and two, she'd really been in the mood to walk. Today was so pretty, after all. Nice, clear-ish sky. Patches of blue shining through the smog. Just right for stretching your legs. She was so happy to have an excuse to get out of Krew's dingy bar and outside, and with her Daxxie in tow no less.

But now she was regretting it. Just wanted to kick herself in the butt for not parking in front of the hideout like any normal person.

That hadn't gone well at all.

Poor Jak. He seemed so confused and hurt, only half listening to the prattle that fell continuously from his buddy's mouth. Tess couldn't blame the kid for being depressed. If someone ever looked at _her_ like that woman had, well, it'd just break her heart.

But she couldn't blame the woman either.

Before the accident, Jak was hardly a safe person to play with. Just about everyone knew that. In fact, there was no playing being done, unless you counted the killing kind. Sure, he did that everywhere, but here in the slums was where he got the most fear from it.

Most Slummers didn't have much more than their faith after all, and to them, Jak was something straight out of the Dark Testament, a fabled book of the demons. He'd gotten a reputation as being a creature born of Dark Eco, of evil, and had earned himself the affectionate nickname of 'white devil' or 'cursed one'.

The rumors really hadn't started until the day the KG tried catching him at the water slums. After that, though, they flourished and multiplied like freaking bungooses. If you hadn't known of Jak and his unholy powers before then, you sure knew him now. And everyone had their own spin on the massacre, each bloodier than the last. Even Tess wasn't sure anymore what was fact about the blonde anti-hero's abilities and what was just spawned from urban legend.

But that'd never mattered much to him before, she guessed. Or rather Jak'd never acknowledged it. It's not like he used to be the type to stop and take a survey concerning his public image. Or save kid's toys out of the pot holes in the street. She doubted he'd really cared. He'd had tunnel vision, and at the end of that tunnel was Praxis' head on a stake or something gross like that. So what if some dingy civvie thought he was scary if what he was doing got him one step closer to that ending? They could deal.

Jak's views used to be a lot like Torn's, actually. What with the tunnel-vision thing. Though, Tess worried a lot more about what Torn's tunnel-vision got him into than what Jak's did.

Probably because she wasn't that close to Jak. Not that anyone was.

Well, 'cept her Daxxie.

That used to bug her, too. How someone like Daxter could be close to a person like Jak. The emerald-blonde did seem pretty heartless on the best of days. Never towards his friend, of course, just to everyone else. He was an outlaw, plain and simple. Ruthless, rugged and violent with a vendetta against all of the system.

And Daxter was just…Daxter. The adorable sidekick that'd won Tess's heart the day they wandered down the Hideout's alley. The exception. There was no reason for him to be there, he just was. That'd always been fine by her, of course. She just…didn't get why Jak tolerated it.

He didn't seem the one for dumb jokes…

A while ago, she'd chalked it up to him liking the white noise of the rodent's ranting.

Now it'd become so obvious. What they really were to one another. They were just friends, in ways deeper than most in a city like Haven could understand. Something happened to Jak along the way to change the sad, silent, smiling boy that was following a step behind her at the moment into the dangerous renegade that'd already done so much for their cause, but it didn't bother Daxter. He stuck by Jak regardless.

Maybe that was why Tess had no problem accepting the drastic change in Jak's personality. It just made so much sense when she thought about it!

And it was really so adorable.

Tess was, however, worried now. For the both of them. She knew now that Torn had been more than right about what Jak had become. He was letting what that mother had done affect him far too much. If he buckled under something like that…

She'd wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt; really she did, but…

You can't afford a soft spot in this business. Or accept coddling.

If it was anyone but Tess watching over him at the moment, they would've been able to follow through with that advice. They would have given Jak a push and told him to suck it up. It's no time to be a wuss. Grow some balls, pansy. That's what Torn would say…

But it wasn't Torn or anyone else. It was Tess. And she, like Daxter, was a lot more comfortable comforting the kid than being mean to him. Even if he did need that a lot more.

Hell, if he wasn't a walking bruise, she'd give him a big ol' hug.

Luckily, by the time they'd made it to Tess's Zoomer, Jak was finally coming out of his funk. The younger teen's mood seemed to brighten even more when he spotted the parked vehicle. After a quick glance to Tess to see if it was indeed hers, Jak rushed over and stuck his head over one side. Right away he was fascinated with the complicated control panel, though one thing in particular instantly caught his eye.

There were two steering wheels.

Once Tess had caught up, he motioned between the twin wheels with confusion written across his face. The barmaid blinked before what he was asking sank in. "Oh! You want to know why there's two of them?" she asked, just to be sure. Jak nodded and Daxter grinned.

"My baby's a smart one," he shot to Jak. The hero rolled his shoulder in response.

Tess smiled at the compliment. "It's for easy access," she explained as she opened her door and stepped inside. Jak followed suit not a moment later. Once she was buckled in and had made sure Jak had done the same—surprisingly quickly, too—Tess continued. "Either side works, but only one at a time." Thin fingers brushed two lights in the center of the dashboard, positioned on either side of a small switch. The left light was on, making it stand out against the otherwise dead panel. "See, you can change which one works with this." Tess flipped the switch a few times, demonstrating how the light cycled with each motion.

Jak nodded in understanding. Though, when Tess pulled her hand away to fish for her ride's keycard somewhere in her pockets, the young man sitting next to her noticed the light nearest him was still on. Well, that wasn't right. Tess was going to be driving, not him (even if he did want to learn how to maneuver this beast). So, being thoughtful, he reached out to remedy this.

His fingers closed around the small strip of metal, not even changing its position, and the entire dashboard lit in a spark of violet electricity. Both he and Tess gave a start as the engine rumbled to life. The only person who wasn't surprised was the rodent perched on Jak's shoulder.

"Still got them crazy hotwiring skills," Daxter exclaimed and wiggled his digits for a moment like he was casting a spell.

Tess just looked astonished. "_You_ did that, Jak?"

The blonde shrugged, surprised and sheepish and embarrassed, though he didn't quite know why he was the last of the three.

_Maybe? _

"A'course he did," replied the animal. "How else do yah think we get around this dump? M'boy here," he cushioned an elbow on Jak's messy mane, "has always had mad powers over techno junk." Jak watched Daxter as he spoke and once he'd finished, turned to the now very bright board in front of them.

Jak's mouth drew to the side and thick, green brows scrunched together and up. He tilted his head towards his friend's chest.

_I guess…_

Very few parts of the dashboard reminded him of the technology outside this dream. He could still pick out the speed gage and of course the steering wheels, but the rest of it baffled him. And it certainly didn't resemble Keira's inventions. There weren't enough creases and wood involved. Just more smooth, painted metal. If he hadn't seen similar vehicles in the air earlier—and still in the air now—he would've been a bit skeptical that Tess's contraption would even stay airborne at all what with its size and it carrying more than one passenger.

Why then would he have any sway over this? Usually it was Precursor artifacts, not the earth bound things elves like him made, that sang when he touched them. That awoke. And this didn't look remotely Precurian, not anymore than the gun.

Still…he couldn't deny that he'd started it…

And it _did_ sound like Keira's Zoomer, if a bit smoother around the edges.

Jak was torn from his thoughts when Tess pulled some lever between them and the contraption they sat in shot upwards. He gave a quiet exclamation of surprise and gripped the side of his door. Tess giggled at him.

"Oh, sorry," she said, though she hardly sounded apologetic. "Just changing levels."

Jak didn't know what that meant, and he thought it hardly excused her laughing at him. Frowning, he removed his hands and instead crossed them under his arms. The waitress laughed harder after noticing his childish posture. She covered her mouth with one hand and turned the wheel to join the traffic with the other.

The slowly passing scenery softened Jak's pout until he couldn't hold it any longer. Instead, he resigned himself to taking in the strange new city and its inhabitants the best he could, this time from the air. Daxter helped, of course, answering silent questions when they were asked with points and gestures and just plain ranting when Jak stayed still.

"There's three types a'people here," the rodent explained as they flew past the ends of the slums and into a new place completely, inhabited by smooth, dark walls and uneven metal floors. "Slummers—like dear ol' mommy back there, High-risers from o'er here 'n this district, and _them_." Daxter pointed down at a large red thing below. For a moment, Jak was almost certain the thing was some statue. It was huge! But, not a moment later, it began walking and he realized that, no, it was simply an extremely large _man_. An irrational fear awoke then, creeping a shiver down his spine. Then, he was reminded of the soldier they'd met in the Rock Village, and the strange feeling stopped.

Dax continued, oblivious to or ignoring Jak's reaction. "Slummers ain't nuthin' but 'Cursor fearin' nobodies, but they can get pretty gutsy. Ain't got much t'lose 'n all that. High-risers don't help nobody but themselves, so they're pretty much just as useless."

_And 'them'?_

Jak motioned with a pointed thumb over his shoulder to the general direction of the red-thing. By then, they'd driven past it. Daxter's eyes thinned a bit, expression becoming stern. Already, Jak didn't want to know what he was going to say next.

"Y'just stay away from them," the ottsel said. Jak rolled his eyes

_Yes, Samos._

"What—HEY."

Tess giggled softly as Daxter began raving at his now extremely amused friend. Their one-sided conversation greatly intrigued her, actually. It reminded her of listening to people talking on personal communicators set low enough for only them to hear. Like she was getting just one side of the conversation. Daxter never repeated anything Jak 'said' like Tess had, because she assumed that unlike her, he wasn't guessing at what he could be thinking. He knew. And he talked like he did any other time, any other place.

It sorta reminded Tess of watching the soothsayer in the Bazaar and her blue-framed sign language. Here it was much simpler and far less entrancing. Jak made simple faces and casual motions that, to her, could mean anything. And Daxter understood them. Always.

Finally, she couldn't take it. The curiosity was getting to be too much.

"How are you doing that, Daxxie?" she asked, giving the friends in the seat over a side long glance.

The rodent perked and his nose twitched she assumed without his permission. "Doin' what?"

"That," a wide, vague motion towards the two. "Knowing what he's saying."

"Ah, that's nothin'." Daxter straightened and puffed out his chest. "I," a paw came to rest flat over his skinny ribcage, "am simply fluent in Jak-o-nese."

The Jak in question snorted. There was always a different name for Dax's helpful ability, but that was so far the worst.

"Jak-o-nese?" Tess repeated, a thin eyebrow raised. This time the blonde covered his smile and shook his head.

"That's what I said." Daxter hopped onto the dashboard to face the driver and other passenger. "Ain't no better translator than lil' ol' me. Heh, without yours truly, Boy Wonder here would be seven kinds'a lost, wouldn't yah?" Jak nodded courteously, but then shot the woman steering a look even she could read as dismissal. A simple eye-roll over a smirk.

_I have to put up with this_.

Orange Lightning chose to keep tooting his own horn over shooting the hero any look of disapproval. "There's not a single damn thing Jak here could say that _I_ ain't gonna understand." The ottsel punctuated his friend's name by giving the teen's head a quick pat. Jak watched his hand with crossed eyes.

"Really?" Tess asked. "Even if it's really complicated?"

"Complicated?" repeated Daxter. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "_Jak_?_Complicated_?"

The teen poked his shoulder companion in the stomach and glared.

"Kiddin'! Jus' kiddin'!" He pushed Jak's hand away with both paws and grinned as innocently as he could manage.

Tess concentrated on driving for a bit longer, now that the traffic was thickening between sectors, before picking back up the conversation. "Prove it," was all she said. Then cocked one shoulder and smiled at Daxter over it.

Like he could refuse_that_.

"You heard th'lady!" Dax all but shouted at his friend, arm and forefinger extended level with his broad nose. "Say somethin' 'complicated'."

For a moment, Jak blinked and mused over the request. His mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown, deciding on what would be the best challenge for his friend. Dream-Dax had told him that in the two years he 'didn't remember', he'd started talking for one reason or another. To that end, it could very well be Dream-Dax was out of practice at this game. Or so said logic.

At times, there was quite a bit of logic in this dream…

The frown split into a smile as a mischievous glint lit up the too-dark blue eyes. Jak bit his lip, looking quite pleased with himself, crossed his big hands behind his head at the knuckles, and sat back.

_Magic Orb Tree_.

Daxter groaned and shifted his weight back in a disappointed lean. "Goddammit, babe, that's _not what I meant n'you know it_!" Jak snorted around his lip and then burst into soft giggles.

"What?" Tess couldn't keep from grinning. Jak's laughter was infectious and was already seeping into her own voice. "What'd he say?"

By now, Daxter was pouting, twiggy arms crossed and neck eaten by his head and shoulders. "Nuthin'," he replied sullenly. "'E's bein' dumb."

And Jak's bubbly laughter continued.

-----

"**Ready to give it a try?**"

Jak grinned at the hovering device as it circled him for what would probably be the last time. Daxter, once again properly glued to his shoulder, rubbed his paws together.

"That'd be a yes, baby!" he crowed. The orange, slightly distorted image of Tess reflecting against the lens of the comm. gave them both a thumbs up. Then the screen dulled to more of a brown and the entire thing compacted down and zipped to Jak's pouch.

And then the doors opened.

Jak drew in a breath then let it out slow.

Finally, he was going to get to cut lose with this baby…

After entering the harbor district he was told was named 'South Town', he and Tess had split up. She'd directed him to a rather empty room right off the street and, giving him his gun, told him to stay there while she went elsewhere. It turned out she'd gone to the course's control room just one door over. For the next hour, she and, really, Daxter spoke to one another over a communicator Jak…apparently had in the little brown bag that'd been found on him.

It amused him how much this communicator resembled the vid-bug Keira had invented for him to carry on missions, but he kept that to himself.

The last sixty minutes had been spent re-teaching the blonde hero how to use his firearm. He was clumsy at it at first, not used to weapons that were not his own hands. He also had some issues with how and when to change the gun mods, so Tess quickly gave up on teaching him them all at once, and instead stuck to the standard Scatter. It took some time after that to keep the boy from just swinging the thing like a club at the cardboard targets that popped out of the floor.

While guns did look fun at first, Jak found them unnecessarily complicated.

Like, for one thing, all of these ammunition cartridges contained different types of Eco. The different modes of his gun corresponded with said different Ecos. So…if he had a yellow cartridge which _obviously_ held Yellow Eco inside…

…why didn't he just channel that and shoot the stuff out of his hands?

Of course, that thought had barely crossed his mind before it was blasted down by Dax. And then Tess had backed him up that it wasn't a good idea and Jak hadn't wanted to fight anyone in the first place so he just dropped it.

Still. This particular dream-logic failed.

"**Your goal is--**" came a smooth female voice within the long room as Jak entered it, and while he didn't recognize the woman speaking, he found he liked her voice quite a lot. He waited for the new woman to finish her sentence while taking note of the tracks on the floor where his targets would be popping up soon. The blonde still didn't know how the heck that worked. Such clean mechanics didn't exist, and if they did, he doubted this place would still be in one piece if Keira knew about it.

She was one to take anything she could get her hands on apart, after all…

He'd barely noticed the few tracks hidden around the corners of the model buildings sticking up out of the walls when the woman spoke again. "**Your goal is 2000**." There was a click as the speakers turned off.

"2000?" Dax repeated from his perch. Jak glanced up to catch the shocked expression the rodent now wore as his voice jumped another half-octave. "Two-_thou_'? Yer _shittin_' me!" While the blonde made a face at the language, Daxter turned to give him his own look, it of disbelief. "What are we, Rookies?"

One emerald brow shot higher than the other.

"Ooookay, dumb question."

A small buzz sounded, followed by a click. Jak turned instantly and, without thinking, clubbed the fake enemy with the weapon in his hands. While an approving ding sounded as it shattered, followed by the unfamiliar woman announcing his score had risen from zero to one hundred, Daxter palmed his face.

"Duuumb question."

-----

Tess stretched her feet carefully across the control panel in front of her and leaned back to watch Jak and her Daxxie start their third run through the course.

First run? Not a complete failure. A lot more hitting rather than shooting going on than she or the side-kick liked, but near the end, Jak got into the hang of things. Aiming was more of an issue then than in the second run, too. There was definite improvement going on. First time, their goal was reached, but only by the skin of the outlaw's teeth. Second time, the goal was passed.

And Tess was very amused when she wasn't the only one doing a victory dance for them.

Too bad she'd had to turn off the security camera recordings, else that would've been a keeper. Anyone and everyone would pay big—hell, _any_ money to see Jak shake his butt like that.

…'least she would.

And now it was try three—third time's a charm. She'd already let the boys in and now it was just time to sit back and watch the show.

Jak had already set out at his steady, albeit awkward, pace. He was so clumsy with the firearm it was almost frustrating to watch if you knew how good he used to be. But Tess was a patient person. She'd been the right gal for the job of reacquainting him with his weapon of choice.

This run was already going better, though. She could tell. Quicker reactions, less thrusting and swinging, and fewer misses. The make-shift gunsmith suspected that Jak had already memorized a few of the course surprises and was using that to his advantage. He seemed a smart fellow like that. She'd seen him watching her control her Zoomer when he wasn't busy 'talking' to Daxter—quiet he may be, but he never stopped thinking.

It wasn't just now, either. She'd always thought that he was hiding a big brain under that mop of yellow-green hair. How else did he survive everything thrown at him? Between Krew and Torn, it couldn't have been simple dumb luck.

There was nothing 'dumb' about Jak, no matter what others thought.

Tess smiled as she watched the brown tinted screens, the little Jak across it once again managing to just barely miss a civvie cut-out. He was very good at that. The first two runs he'd even purposely missed a few good shots because of the possibility of hitting a civvie. The fact made a small little smile spread on her face.

…though, hadn't Sig said something about civvie cuts being a real downer to Jak's old scores? Oh well.

It was half-way through the current run when Tess started to notice Jak's reaction times peak. He'd gotten to the ammo check-point—and thankfully remembered this time that he couldn't continue until he'd broken those boxes—and just shot off like a rocket. By the final stretch, he only swung on the double-hits, just to finish them off.

Tess couldn't help but smile. So his body did remember what to do! With his score closing quickly on a bronze, she was certain after this they could move onto the next course and then smack a big, huge 'mission complete' sticker on this whole thing.

Then, Jak would be good enough to start missions again. The sooner the better. The Underground needed him more than anyone really liked admitting, and there was something big in the works with Jak smack dab in the middle of it. She'd heard things. Something about the Old Place and Jak and seeds.

So yeah, sooner the better. So this was good!

…and Jak's score suddenly dropped off a hundred points.

Tess blinked, sitting forward a bit in her seat. So caught up in her thoughts, she'd defiantly missed something here. Reaching out, she gave the score monitor a quick slap.

The numbers dropped down again.

Blue eyes jumped to the furthest monitor. Jak was indeed at the final stretch—stuck in the trick shots.

Last couple runs, this portion definitely hurt his score. Usually, he'd just stand there, picking off a few when he felt lucky, and never once with a bullet. A quick kick here, a smack or punch there. Once or twice only. First run, he didn't even budge until the pace had slowed down.

Now he was hitting everything. Anything. Quickly jerking back and forth as something new popped out of the floor at him. Points were added and subtracted so quickly from his score, the counter was flashing. The speed—the reaction time, it was amazing! Even when the mechanics slowed, he didn't. He was turning before targets even popped up—like he'd already knew they'd be there. Like he already had it memorized.

Only that didn't make any sense…

Jak finished the run with a bronze, but only barely thanks to all the civvies he'd hit. Tess, slightly concerned now, buzzed him before restarting the course. On the base monitor, a little dot jumped from Jak's pouch and began hovering around him. The one next to it turned from brown to a distorted orange image of the hero and his companion.

"—**man, just breathe**." The speakers around her crackled with the static of Daxter's voice. He was rubbing Jak's head.

"Uhh, everything okay down there, guys?" Tess asked, leaning towards the stationary mic protruding out of the desk.

"**Jus' fine, sugar**," replied Daxter. He wasn't looking at her "**We almost done?**"

"Oh. Oh yeah, we're almost done. Just one more time through."

Daxter nodded, paw still running its smooth course through Jak's hair. Tess could see the young man's shoulders shaking. "**One more time, buddy, 'kay?**" he hissed to his friend, almost too low for Tess to hear. "**We're almost done**."

The barmaid closed the comm. link, feeling strangely guilty—as if she'd intruded upon something she had no right being apart of. She thumbed the entrance command. Picked at the side. Watched the little blip that was Jak slowly calm. Pressed down, and opened the doors.

…what the hell was that?


End file.
